


A Little Space

by ParadiseAvenger



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Age Regression/De-Aging, Canonical Child Abuse, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Touch-Starved
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-23
Updated: 2020-11-11
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:54:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 37,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26622493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ParadiseAvenger/pseuds/ParadiseAvenger
Summary: Gon wasn’t incredibly good as guessing the ages of children. He supposed the boy was no longer a toddler but only just. Stunning sapphire eyes blinked at Gon, catching the fluorescent lights overhead. The child had fluffy silver-white hair and was wearing oversized clothes that were painstakingly familiar. Gon had no idea what had happened or why, but it was abruptly clear that the little boy was Killua.A strange nen attack reduced Killua to the age of a child and it was up to Gon to protect him while trying to get him back to normal.
Relationships: Gon Freecs/Killua Zoldyck
Comments: 239
Kudos: 517





	1. A Failed Attack?

I can safely say that I have never felt the urge to write a story where any of the characters are children or have children or interact with children beyond the bare minimum. I don't have a maternal bone in my body [unless you're a dog or cat, then I have them all]. Then I met Killua…

XXX

The burning sun was beginning to set over the ocean, casting the cobbled streets in cool cobalt twilight. The sleepy seaside town was unremarkable save for its annual three-day Chocolate Festival which was why Gon Freecss and Killua Zoldyck were visiting. They had just eaten some dinner at a nearby restaurant that specialized in local seafaring cuisine. Well, Gon had eaten dinner and Killua had eaten dessert in protest of fish smelling the way they did.

“It wasn’t chocolaty enough,” Killua groused as they walked back to their rented room. “I thought they had good chocolate here.”

Gon chuckled, his hands thrown lazily behind his head and his face tipped up to the fading sunset. “The festival is tomorrow,” he said. “Can’t you wait a little longer?”

“Not for chocolate,” Killua said with an excited grin.

The street was crowded with young couples, people walking their dogs, children running and playing, and the odd jogger weaving through the throng. Killua slouched along beside Gon, his hands thrust deep in his pockets while Gon peeped in all the open shop windows. He couldn’t deny his own anticipation for the festival, but it paled in comparison to Killua’s. The old-timey wrought iron streetlamps flickered on, casting everything in a warm golden glow. They passed the mouth of a shadowed alley, chatting amicably.

“What do you want to eat first tomorrow?” Gon asked.

Killua made a big show of thinking before he turned his sparkling sapphire eyes on his friend and declared, “Everything!”

Gon wasn’t surprised—this from the person who had bought out a store’s entire stock of Chocolate Robots. He laughed at the thought of Killua buying out the Chocolate Festival and being chased from the town with torches and pitchforks.

“What’s so funny?” Killua demanded.

From the dark alley, there was a little puff of ignition and a flare of light like someone striking a match to light a cigarette. Gon had the impression of smelling smoke for just a second. Some animal instinct flared along his back. All the hairs on his neck and arms prickled, standing at attention, unsettled. Then, a nen attack surged towards Killua, sparkling and leaping like tongues of fire. It looked red-hot though it gave off very little light. It was long and flat like a discus with a wicked sharp edge.

Gon didn’t have a chance to cry out.

Killua braced for impact, summoning his nen to block the brunt of the assault. If he dodged, the attack might hit someone else on the street—someone who didn’t have their own nen to protect them.

Immediately, Gon closed the space between himself and Killua’s attacker, taking advantage of the opening his assault had left. He punched the assailant hard, one good strong Jajanken-Rock blasting him out the backside of the alley and halfway across the fountain courtyard to land in a heap.

Gon turned straightaway to face Killua, heart clogged in his throat and heart pounding.

Someone screamed.

A woman’s voice went shrill with panic even as a man demanded to know what had happened.

However, it appeared that the nen attack had glanced off Killua and dispersed. Killua’s skin prickled where it had struck, but there was no sign of anything detrimental which was ridiculous considering that the attacker had been hiding in an alley waiting for them to walk by unaware. Killua had expected to have been liquefied on the spot for all the pomp and circumstance surrounding the surprise attack.

“That was weird,” Killua remarked, giving his loose hands a little shake as though to dry them.

Gon crossed the alley quickly, clapped his palms to Killua’s face, and gave a concerned squeeze of his friend’s pale cheeks. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fwine,” Killua managed and batted Gon’s pinching fingers away from his face. “I don’t feel anything unusual, just a little tingly.”

“Tingly?” Gon repeated. He picked up Killua’s hand and examined the slightly-reddened patch of skin on his forearm where the attack had bounced off.

A passerby approached to check on them, phone in hand. “Are you guys okay?” she asked urgently.

“Let go, idiot!” Killua shook Gon off, cheeks flushing with embarrassment to be fussed over in front of a stranger, and thrust his hands into his pockets again. “I said I’m fine already.” To the Good Samaritan, he said, “Thanks, but we’re good. It was nothing to worry about.”

Gon regarded Killua with bright amber-flecked eyes and then relented. “Okay, but let me know the second you feel anything weird.”

“Believe me, you’ll be the first to know,” Killua mumbled and tipped his chin at their crumpled assailant. “What was all that about anyway?”

“I don’t know.” Gon strode through the alley and crouched to roll the attacker over. He was a nondescript middle aged man with thinning salt-and-pepper hair and a scruffy beard. He was dressed in a dirty collection of layered shirts, torn pants, and only one boot. Killua could smell him from where he stood a few feet away—a vagrant maybe? The man was deeply unconscious, lolling limply across the cobblestones at the base of the burbling fountain. “What should we do about him?”

“I guess nothing,” Killua said and toed the man with his sneaker.

“Killua!” Gon protested. “He attacked us!”

“Correction, he tried to attack us and failed so he’s clearly not much of a threat,” Killua said flippantly. “Look at him. I doubt he’s anything more sinister than a bum who thought two kids our age would be easy marks to pickpocket.”

“But what about that nen attack?”

Killua shrugged, his shoulders rising and falling dramatically with his hands stuffed in his pockets. “He was just as lousy with his nen attack as he was with regular combat. Besides, it doesn’t look like it did anything and if it did, we can deal with it later.”

“Well,” Gon mumbled, “if you’re sure.” He looked between the unconscious man and Killua worriedly.

“This is dumb,” Killua continued. “How about we ditch this place and get ice cream?”

Gon straightened up from the vagrant, dusting off his hands and knees. He looked Killua over again, eyes lingering on his pale forearm but the reddish mark had already faded. There wasn’t even a bruise or scrape where the attack had rebounded off Killua’s skin. “I guess,” he relented, “if you’re sure you’re okay.”

Killua smirked, showing just a flash of his white teeth. “Race you to the sweet shop!” With that, he bolted away, leaping to the rooftop of a nearby building in a single bound.

“No fair!” Gon shouted at his retreating back. “That’s cheating!”

Killua’s joyful laugh was blown back to him by the salt-scented breeze.

Gon sprang after his friend, his boots eating up the distance. It wasn’t long before he caught up to Killua, who had clearly slowed down to wait for him. Together, they sprinted through the streets until they found a parlor with ice cream cones in the window and Killua insisted they each get two scoops. Gon couldn’t deny Killua anything—especially something as little as that. He watched Killua over the rim of his heaping sundae, but nothing seemed out-of-sorts. Killua looked fine. Maybe the attacker had been weak, maybe the nen attack had been pointless, maybe nothing would go wrong, maybe pigs would fly.

…

The sunshine streamed merrily through the inn’s curtains the next morning. Gon was surprised to wake so late without being bothered. Usually, Killua delighted in rising with the first flicker of sun and then rolling Gon bodily out of bed for some pre-dawn stretches, katas, and nen exercises. The young assassin could last for days on only a few hours of sleep—a trait with Gon both envied and despised in equal measures. Personally, Gon preferred a full eight hours in his sleeping bag under the stars.

Left undisturbed, Gon went quickly through his morning routine. He showered, dressed in his last clean clothes, stuffed his few belongings back into his bag, and headed out. He and Killua hadn’t been able to get adjoining rooms as they usually did so Killua was just a short distance down the hall. He wondered what exactly had kept Killua in bed for so long. They had to get moving if they wanted to beat the rush for the Chocolate Festival that Killua was so excited for. It was rumored that there was a certain kind of chocolate that sold out within hours of being put out for purchase and it wasn’t like Killua to miss something like that.

Gon knocked lightly and called, “Killua?”

There was no response.

Maybe all the sweets he had eaten for dinner the night before had made him crash hard. Gon smirked at the thought, pulled out his keycard for Killua’s room, and swiped it through the lock. He bounced into Killua’s room, prepared to pounce on his slumbering friend. However, the curtains were still tightly-drawn and the room was cast in deep bluish shadows. The bed was unmade, the sheets tangled and dripped over the edge of the mattress, and the pillows were askew. Killua’s shoes were still kicked off in the middle of the room and his personal effects were on the nightstand, but there was no sign of Killua.

“Killua?” Gon repeated.

Maybe this was all an elaborate prank on Killua’s part. Maybe he was lulling Gon into a false sense of security before he attacked.

Or maybe the nen attack from last night had done something really bad to Killua!

Gon’s heart flopped against his ribs. “Killua!” he shouted, alarmed. “Killua! Where are you? Answer me!”

The room was still and cool and dark.

There was no response.

Gon sucked in a steadying breath, centered himself, and reached out with his nen. He prayed that he would be able to sense someone or something that would lead him to his friend. However, after only a moment of searching, he realized there was a flickering sense of someone’s energy very nearby. It was in the room with him, just on the other side of the closed bathroom door.

Gon barged the door open carelessly, more concerned that Killua was hurt than intruding on his privacy, and squinted in the sunlight flooding in through the open curtains. At a glance, the bathroom was deserted—but no, he could still detect that little presence. There was no place in the bathroom to hide except…

Gon crouched and pulled open the door of the diminutive cabinet under the sink. Inside that tiny space, someone was hidden, pressed back behind the bottles of cleaners and extra rolls of toilet paper.

“Killua?” Gon asked incredulously.

Gon knew objectively that he and Killua were still young, but the little boy he found hidden under the sink was practically a toddler. The child cowered at the sight of Gon, shielding his head and face with his thin arms. Gon froze, just staring at the strange boy. Where had he come from? Where was Killua?

Instead of panicking, Gon decided to address the child first. “Hi,” he said gently. “Can you come out of there for me?”

The child made a little sound of distress and the bottles vibrated with the force of his shivers.

“It’s okay. I’m not going to hurt you,” Gon said and offered his hand. “Come on out. Can you tell me what happened?”

Slowly, the child scooted forward and then gingerly uncurled from the miniature space under the sink, ignoring Gon’s offered hand.

Gon wasn’t incredibly good as guessing the ages of children (or adults). He supposed the boy was no longer a toddler but only just. Stunning sapphire eyes blinked at Gon, catching the fluorescent lights overhead, and Gon’s heart spluttered to a stop before jerking back to life with jackhammering force. The child had fluffy silver-white hair and was wearing oversized clothes that were painstakingly familiar. Gon had no idea what had happened or why, but it was abruptly clear that the little boy was Killua.

“W-what… happened?” Gon breathed. “H-how…?”

Killua shuffled on bare feet, twisting his little fingers in the hem of his too-big tee shirt.

“Killua?” Gon repeated incredulously. “You are Killua, right?”

Killua’s blue eyes flickered from Gon’s face to the open bathroom door and then back to the cabinet again, weighing his options with fright in his face.

“Don’t be scared,” Gon soothed. He held out his hands, crouching in front of the child to show that he meant no harm. “It’s okay. I’m your friend. I’m Gon. You don’t look like you remember me, do you?”

Little Killua glanced at him. His eyes were wet and panicky, but even as Gon watched, he snuffled in a big breath and steeled himself. It was the face Killua wore when he used his assassin skills, the stony and blank expression hiding his feelings completely. To see the change come over his baby-face set Gon’s teeth on edge. Levelly, his little voice firm and hard, he said, “My name is Killua Zoldyck.”

Gon knelt carefully in front of the boy, resisting the urge to stay crouched in case he had to react to an attack. This was Killua, his friend, no matter the form he was in. “Killua,” he asked, “do you know what happened?”

Killua stared at Gon for a moment with that expressionless fearsome face, his small hands knotted into quivering fists in the hem of his loose shirt. Slowly, he wilted and shuffled under Gon’s gaze, the assassin’s mask cracking and chipping. He looked away and then finally repeated, “My name is Killua Zoldyck.”

Gon heaved a deep breath. He knew without a doubt that this child was Killua and he could only guess that his sudden transformation had something to do with the seemingly-failed nen attack yesterday, but he was seriously in over his head. Killua didn’t remember him and Gon had no idea what to do with a child so young. He needed help—and fast. Gon straightened up and began rifling through his pockets for his phone. Leorio would know what to do, he hoped.

Killua watched as Gon dialed, huge blue eyes staring fretfully up at him.

“It’ll be okay,” Gon told him kindly. “I’m just calling our friend. I’m sure he’ll know what to do.”

Suddenly, the door to Killua’s room was blasted off its hinges with an ear-splitting crash.

Gon snapped the phone shut immediately, crammed it into his pocket, and flattened himself against the wall beside the bathroom door. Peeking through the crack, he saw that the vagrant who had attacked Killua the day before had destroyed the door. He had showered and shaved, was dressed differently in a sharp suit, and surveyed the room with a clinical eye. Like the night before, Gon’s hair stood on end immediately, every sense in his body warning him. He should have listened to his instincts. This was no simple failed-mugging. Someone had sent this person after Killua—probably specifically because of his nen ability. But who would want Killua reduced to a child?

“Killua,” Gon whispered and gestured only a little frantically for the boy to come closer to him.

However, Killua didn’t move. His hands knotted in his oversized shirt, his shoulders stiffened, and his bare toes curled.

“Weird,” the assailant muttered under his breath. If Gon hadn’t been so close, pressed near the cracked-open door as he was, he wouldn’t have heard it. “I was expecting him to be a baby. He must be older if he’s able to hide.”

Gon glanced at Killua worriedly.

The man turned on the light, moved deeper into the room, pulled back the mussed covers completely, and then dropped to look under the bed. With a dejected sigh, he returned to his feet and rubbed the back of his neck. “Come out, come out, wherever you are,” the assailant called sing-song. “Baby Killua?”

Killua bristled and his blue eyes shrank to haunting pinpoints. Bloodlust poured off of him, washing out in that way that kittens had of puffing themselves up when they were frightened. His assassin’s aura crackled around him, making the air thick and cold. His gaze was sharp but troubled, his lower lip was drawn between his teeth anxiously, and his hands were clenched into sharp claws. Usually, the sight of Killua’s assassin skills set Gon at ease, but there was something gut-wrenching about that dreadful aura rolling off such a young child. Gon had no doubts that Killua would lash out no matter how ill-equipped he was to fight.

“There you are!” the assailant chirruped.

Gon didn’t give the stranger a chance to get to Killua nor did he wait to see what little Killua would do. Instead, he swept Killua up in his arms, kicked open the bathroom window in a shower of glass, and took off running across the rooftops. Behind him the wall of the inn exploded with the force of the stranger’s attack. Dust and rubble collided with Gon’s back, knocking him off balance. With Killua’s weight in his arms, he couldn’t regain his posture and his feet went out from under him. Thankfully, he tumbled over the edge of the roof and out of sight. He landed hard a few stories below, ankles smarting from the impact.

He didn’t look back and refused to acknowledge the bite of Killua’s assassin claws sinking into his shoulders where the startled child gripped him desperately. Slowly, painstakingly, the more distance Gon put between them and the inn, Killua relaxed little by little until his claws had retracted. He shivered in Gon’s arms, his little warm body pressed tight, arms clinging around Gon’s neck in almost a strangle-hold. Gon felt hot blood rolling down the backs of his shoulders, but ignored it in favor of holding Killua close. He needed to put as much space between them and the attacker as possible. Then, he would call Leorio and Kurapika both.

XXX

I tagged for the Gon/Killua relationship, but due to the content, it's really more platonic than anything else. Maybe you could see something romantic if you squint. Just so you all know. 

Questions, comments, concerns?


	2. Good Assassins

I have this written to completion so stay tuned for updates. I'm going to try to do a final edit and post a new chapter every Wednesday or Thursday.

XXX

Gon wasn’t even out of breath by the time he reached the train station. Killua weighed practically nothing in his arms and he couldn’t sense anyone following them. He scanned the crowd with his nen, but no one stood out. He melted into the throng of people quickly, weaving amidst the daily commuters and students and tourists until he felt at least a little safer. He shifted little Killua carefully into one arm, fished out his phone, and dialed Leorio again.

“Gon, what the hell? You hung up on me as soon as I answered,” came Leorio’s grouchy response.

“Sorry, Leorio,” Gon said. He walked briskly through the train station, never staying in one place for long and changing directions aimlessly. He was unsettled by the coordinated attacks on Killua and his eyes darted over the faces around them suspiciously. Gon had no idea how he would be able to fight while protecting this Killua. “I have a problem here.”

“A problem?” Leorio repeated.

Gon adjusted his grip on Killua, hugging the child closer to his chest. Killua curled into him with surprising ease, his face buried and his arms tight around Gon’s neck. Part of Gon had expected that little Kilua would try to escape from who he now perceived as a stranger. If Killua ran, he might wind up in the hands of the people who had done this to him and that was the last thing Gon wanted to happen. Better to keep at least one hand on Killua at all times until he could get this sorted out. “It’s hard to explain,” Gon muttered.

“Try.”

“Well, last night, what I thought was a bum attacked Killua and me. He had a special nen attack, but it didn’t seem to do anything right away.”

Leorio made a thoughtful sound. “I’m with you so far.”

“When I woke up this morning, Killua was…” Gon cut his eyes to the child in his arms. Killua’s spiny aura had dropped away, leaving him shivering in the oversized clothes Killua had been wearing the night before. The neck of the tee shirt hung off Killua’s bony shoulder. Helplessly, Gon settled on, “He’s little.”

“Killua is little?” Leorio repeated.

“Yeah,” Gon agreed.

“Like he shrank?”

“No, like he’s… two or three years old.”

Leorio was silent for a long moment.

Gon continued, “Before I had a chance to deal with that, the same guy who attacked us showed up at the place where we were staying. He barged in and he was clearly looking for Killua. I don’t know why.”

There was the sound of Leorio taking off his glasses and polishing them. “I don’t even know where to start.”

Gon scanned the crowd again. “I do,” he said. “I’m on my way. I’m going to buy tickets and get the first train out of this town.”

“You’re coming here?” Leorio asked shrilly.

Killua tensed in Gon’s hold, a tiny sound of distress escaping him in response to Leorio or the thought of leaving, Gon wasn’t sure.

“Do you have a better idea?” Gon asked. He shifted Killua’s scant weight again, holding him tighter, and headed towards the ticket counter.

Leorio hesitated and then agreed, “No.”

“Call Kurapika for me,” Gon said. “We’re going to need all the help we can get.”

“Will do,” Leorio said. “Be safe and keep me updated.”

Gon bid him farewell and hung up.

He was careful to keep Killua’s face turned into his shoulder while he purchased the tickets, but he had a feeling they were memorable anyway. It wasn’t everyday a white-haired child was carried around in clothes that positively dripped off his little body by a spiky-haired youth in bright green. Gon loitered on the platform for a while and only boarded the train at the last possible second, just in case the stranger was watching and tracking them. He carried Killua down the aisles and found a train car that was almost-empty.

Gently, Gon eased Killua out of his arms and onto the seat. Killua’s fingers gripped onto his shirt for a moment before he let go.

“Hey, are you okay?” Gon asked gently.

Killua blinked at him. His blue eyes were red-rimmed as though he had fought back tears and the baggy neck of Killua’s tee shirt had fallen down over his little shoulder again. There was a scar visible at his collarbone, silver-pink against his white skin. It was the same one he had often seen on his Killua, in case he had still had doubts.

Gon couldn’t help but smooth the wind-mussed platinum tresses out of Killua’s pointed pale face and fix the slipping shirt to hide the familiar scar. “I know that was scary, but you were really brave, Killua,” he said. “Are you hurt anywhere?”

“I—I,” Killua murmured. His eyes shifted between Gon’s smile and the scenery flashing by outside the train window. “You protected me…”

“I did,” Gon confirmed. “And I’ll keep protecting you until we figure this out, okay?”

Killua looked somewhere between doubtful and awed.

A piece of Gon’s heart splintered, his stomach dropping even as some invisible knot in it pulled tight in his guts. “You don’t remember me, huh?”

Killua shook his head slowly, regarding Gon with jewel-blue eyes.

“That’s okay,” Gon said cheerfully. He tried not to worry about what would happen if they couldn’t get Killua back to his rightful age. “I’m Gon Freecss.”

“Gon,” Killua repeated, testing it out. Gon had hoped his name would spark some kind of recognition in Killua, but his curious and confused expression didn’t change.

“That’s right,” Gon said. He folded his hands together to resist the urge to keep touching Killua’s over-long fluffy hair. He was just so adorable like this, but Gon knew the Killua he was used to wouldn’t appreciate his hair being ruffled. “I know that guy is after you so we’re going to ride this train for a couple hours and meet up with some friends of ours. Hopefully, once we’re all together, we can figure out a way to get this mess sorted out.”

“Our… friends,” Killua murmured thoughtfully. “This mess…”

“Do you need anything before we settle in for the ride?”

Killua’s cheeks flushed pink. “No,” he told Gon. “I-I’m fine.”

“Okay,” Gon said. “Just let me know if that changes, okay?”

Killua nodded slowly, looking at Gon from the corner of his eyes.

Gon shrugged out of his backpack, dropped it on the seat beside him, and waited for the conductor to come around for their tickets. Killua sat primly across from Gon, his knees together and his hands in his lap. After Gon handed over their tickets, he sorted through his pack. He hadn’t had time to grab any of Killua’s things, including his phone and shoes. Unfortunately, Killua was the prepared one out of the two of them. Gon had woefully few items in his possession and most of them weren’t even that useful. He only had clean socks and underwear in the way of clothes, a few mismatched bandages, some crumpled snacks, and the remains of his broken fishing rod.

“Not good,” he muttered and stole a glance at Killua.

The boy was leaned against his window, his head pillowed on his palm and his blue eyes unfocused towards the passing scenery. He looked tired and Gon could only hope he would drift off to sleep. That would make the trip go a lot faster.

Gon turned his attention away from their plight and focused instead on scanning the other nearby riders. No one stood out to him, but he wasn’t ready to drop his guard. The stranger had been in the hotel with them, kicking down Killua’s door, before Gon had sensed him, but Gon hoped that actively looking for him would give them an edge. What the hell kind of nen ability could reduce a person’s age though? Maybe Kurapika or Leorio would be able to make some headway once they saw Killua’s diminutive state.

Gon shoveled everything back into his pack and zipped it shut with a sigh. At least he had a decent amount of money thanks to his Hunter’s License so he could simply purchase anything little Killua might need. Then, he reclined in the seat and stared aimlessly out the window. Every so often, he couldn’t help but steal a glance at Killua. He was so young and small, a shadow of the strong youth that Gon knew so well, but…

Killua was absolutely adorable as a child, so cute with his fluffy hair and huge blue eyes and serious little face. However, Gon knew Killua’s family hadn’t been kind to him when he was small (and indeed continued to treat him poorly even now). They hadn’t showered him with love or affection or tenderness. Instead they had broken and shaped him into the perfect killing tool. Gon’s heart twisted each time he looked at his friend’s tiny form. He couldn’t help but recall the moment Killua’s assassin aura had flowed out of him in the hotel. Killua was so young and his family had already trained him so thoroughly.

Gon just wanted to wrap little Killua up in his arms, squeeze him tight, and never let him go. But the Killua he knew wouldn’t appreciate that, so he did his best to resist the urge. Instead, he focused on doing his best to keep them safe from the unknown assailant.

…

The sun rose high in the sky, burning off the cloud cover that had rolled in off the sea. The sky was crystal-clear and so blue that it looked false. It would have been the perfect day for a Chocolate Festival, if only things had gone as planned. They had been riding the train for several hours and it was nearing lunchtime. The warm sunlight streaming through the window was making Gon drowsy, but he forced himself to stay alert.

Killua was quiet across from him. Gon thought he might have been sleeping, but there was a little wrinkle between his brows. Maybe he was having a nightmare. Gon certainly couldn’t blame him if he was. He was considering rousing Killua for lunch when Killua gave a little jerk in his seat and then bit his lower lip hard. Gon realized suddenly that the front of Killua’s shorts was growing dark and wet. He was frozen for a moment before Killua’s horrified blue eyes snapped open and he tried to disappear into the seat.

Gon could have kicked himself. He had found Killua hiding in the cupboard under the bathroom sink and they had been riding the train for who-even-knew-how-long since the attack and he hadn’t thought to ask if he had to go to the bathroom. He snapped to his feet and quickly shrugged out of his jacket in an attempt to cover Killua’s embarrassment.

“I'm sorry!” Killua wailed the moment Gon towered over him. He quickly brought his arms up to shield his head and face, cringing into the seat, making himself as small a target as possible. “I'm sorry! I can do better—I will do better, I promise!”

A few concerned and confused eyes turned to look at them.

Gon dropped to his knees, swathing Killua in his jacket. “It’s okay, it’s okay. It’s not your fault,” he said urgently. “Shh, don’t shout. It’s okay.”

“I can do better!” Killua sobbed softly. His cheeks were flushed an almost-painful-looking pink. “I can, I promise, I promise. I’m sorry!”

“Shh, shh,” Gon said as he tucked his jacket around Killua’s hips. Killua had always embarrassed easily, but the pure shame and panic on his adorable face was impossible to look at. “We’ll take care of it, okay, Killua?”

“I know good assassins have to hold it, I know that, I'm sorry!” Killua continued. His little voice was strained and frightened. “I tried! I really tried, I promise! I’m sorry!”

Gon’s hands stilled in the act of trying to soothe Killua. A chill shot through him, making his palms clammy and the back of his neck sweat.

Abruptly, Gon bundled Killua into his jacket, scooped him up, and carried him to the small bathroom at the back of the train car. He set Killua down on the lid of the toilet seat. Once they were closed in the little cubicle together and away from prying eyes, he wasn’t sure what to do. He didn't have any spare clothes that he could dress Killua in and he had no way of cleaning or even drying the oversized clothes he was currently wearing. He had abandoned everything but the contents of his pack when they were attacked at the inn. Certainly, Killua couldn't stay dressed as he was though. Gon had to think of something.

There was a light knock at the door, followed by a woman's voice, “Pardon me?”

“Um, occupied,” Gon managed.

Killua cringed, burrowing into Gon's jacket as though it would swallow him whole. “I’m sorry,” he said again. A little hiccupping sob broke free from his chest. “I’m sorry. I tried so hard.”

Gon’s heart twisted, knotting and snarling in his chest.

“I hope this isn't presumptuous of me, but I couldn't help noticing your situation,” the woman continued from the other side of the door. “These things happen. I have a spare set of clothes that might fit, if you'd like.”

Gon let out a little breath of relief. “Really?”

“Of course,” came the woman's response.

Gon cracked open the door and gave the woman a thousand-watt smile. “Thank you so much. I'll repay you just as soon as I can.”

She smiled lightly. “Don't worry about it. I have a little one myself so I always travel with extra.”

“You’re a lifesaver,” Gon said and accepted the bundle of colorful children’s clothes.

“No problem,” she said. Then, she gave a small wave and returned to her seat where a young child was snoozing against the window with a stuffed rabbit clutched to his chest.

Gon sniffed the clothing, but couldn’t smell anything dishonest or sinister in her intentions. He combed the fabric with his hands, but there was no sign of any tracking devices either. “Thank goodness,” he muttered, shut the door, and then turned back to Killua. “We’re in luck. Let’s get you changed out of those wet clothes, okay?”

Killua stiffened further, his little fingers knotting in Gon’s jacket as he pulled it around himself like a shield. He was soaked and shivering, but he shook his head. “No, I’m sorry. Please!”

“Killua, it’s okay,” Gon said soothingly. “We’re just going to get your wet clothes off and you can put these on instead. Nothing bad is going to happen.”

Killua flinched violently when Gon reached for him. “Please,” he protested. “Don’t.”

Gon went still, unsettled. “Killua,” he asked slowly, “what do you think is going to happen?”

Killua curled his bare toes, the fine tendons standing out with tension. “If you… if you see how bad I really am,” he murmured with his eyes fixed on his knobby knees, “then you won’t… be nice to me anymore. I—I just want you to—” His voice died a slow death, tears gathering at the corners of his eyes as he confessed.

Gon cupped Killua’s narrow shoulders in his palms. “Killua, you’re not bad. It was just an accident, okay? I’ll still be nice to you.” His throat tightened around the words and he promised, “I’ll always be nice to you.”

Killua shook his head in wordless dissent. “No,” he moaned lowly, “not if you see.”

Gon rubbed his shoulders comfortingly, feeling Killua’s bones through his thin cold flesh and oversized shirt. “It’ll be okay, Killua,” he assured him and slowly peeled away his damp jacket. “We’ll get you clean and dry and it’ll be better, you’ll see. You’ll feel so much better, honest.”

Killua didn’t argue further as Gon set the green jacket aside and then began working Killua out of the oversized tee shirt he was wearing from the night before. He kept his head down, his hands limp, and his lower lip dragged between his teeth. He was practically vibrating with concern.

Once he had the shirt off, the first thing Gon noticed was how thin Killua was. Then, Gon realized that Killua’s entire torso was splattered with bruises and cuts in varying degrees of healing in addition to a spray of scars. For a moment, he recalled their recent training sessions and thought that he needed to go easier on Killua next time they sparred. Then, he remembered that the bizarre nen ability had pulled all of Killua backwards into his childhood, right down to his memories and body. That meant that these injuries had been inflicted on Killua recently—well, as recently as the nen ability had regressed him to.

Despite his tender age, Killua’s narrow back bore the signs of a brutal whipping. His skin was split and blackened, covered in a dried coating of blood and filth. Large bruises peppered his torso, some the deep plum of spilled blood while others were turning yellow and green. A dark handprint was blatantly wrapped around Killua’s upper arm where someone had gripped him painfully, complete with the broken crescents of fingernails. He was frightfully slender, especially for his age. His bones pressed against his white skin like the bars of a birdcage, visible enough that Gon could count every rib and vertebrae of his little spine. His shoulders and elbows were knobby, his hips stood out sharply, and his knees were like skulls. So little of Killua’s skin was unmarked, but what happened to be unbroken and unbruised was scarred instead. The topography of healed silvery-pink injuries told a terrible story of cuts and burns and beatings and torture.

Gon’s stomach filled with churning acid and each breath stoked the fire in his chest.

Killua didn’t try to hide from Gon’s sight, simply sat stiffly in his sodden shorts and let Gon look his fill. “See?” Killua whispered. His voice was tiny and steady with terrible certainty. “Now you know how bad I am… My mommy and big brother had to do this to get me to behave.”

Gon jolted out of his reverie with a gasp. All at once, Gon’s stomach was too upset to stand the sight of Killua’s poor brutalized body. He doubled over, heaving for breath, fighting the nausea clawing up through his insides like a hot coal. He retched, sucking in air as icy sweat beaded on his brow and the back of his neck. He kept trying to breathe deeply, gasping through the bile rising in his throat. His legs sunk out from underneath him. He slithered to his knees on the bathroom floor, turned partly away from Killua, and he gripped the edge of the sink like a lifeline. If he looked at Killua again, if he thought about how those injuries had come to be, he would certainly lose it.

Gon squeezed his eyes shut and tried to breathe, trembling like a leaf caught in a hurricane.

Killua’s little hand tentatively touched the back of Gon’s head, giving a little pat of meager comfort to his wild dark hair. “It’s okay,” he murmured. “Are you sick?”

Gon managed a deep breath, his skin prickling with goosebumps as his sweat cooled.

Killua hopped down from the seat and stood on his tiptoes to reach the sink. He managed to pull out a handful of paper towels and wet them under the automatic faucet. “Here,” he offered. “I don't like being sick. It hurts and it's scary.” When Gon didn’t take the towels immediately, Killua bumped them into his clenched knuckles.

Gon took the wet towels, wiping his neck and forehead mechanically.

“But my dinner is almost always poisoned,” Killua continued. The sunlight through the little bathroom window glanced across his tormented body, lighting up the horrors of his white flesh in glaring relief. “I don't have to eat it, but I just get so hungry after a while and then I get sick…”

Gon’s stomach twisted again, but he breathed through it. “Killua,” he began, but what could he say? Really, what on earth could he say?

Killua startled at the sound of his name. He shuffled a little like he wanted to curl up and hide but wasn’t allowed. “It’s okay,” Killua said finally. “I mean, someday I’ll be the greatest assassin there is, even better than my daddy and I’ll take over the family business and…” he trailed off.

Gon was just staring at him—this little boy, beaten and starved within an inch of his life, and somehow Gon was the one being comforted. Killua was even sensitive enough to stop speaking when he saw that his words were only upsetting Gon more. The world didn’t deserve Killua, Gon thought. He was too sweet, too kind, too full of light.

“Do you feel better?” Killua asked softly instead.

“Yeah,” Gon said. The towels were cold in his hand. “But… what about you?”

Killua picked at his wet pants. “I’m sorry,” he said again. “I was really trying to hold it.”

“You don’t have to hold it,” Gon said. The words left an ashen taste in his mouth. “You’re not with,” he hesitated, at war with himself, “your family… right now. You don’t have to hold it. You don’t have to be uncomfortable or in pain or hungry or poisoned or anything bad. You can just… I want you to be happy, Killua.”

Killua’s huge blue eyes turned wondrously towards Gon. “Happy?” he repeated.

“Yes,” Gon confirmed. “Tell me something that would make you happy and if it’s possible to get, we’ll get it as soon as the train stops, okay?”

Killua appeared to think for a moment, mentally pulling up and discarding things that would please him by turns. Gon wondered what kinds of things Killua was putting aside as impossibilities. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know. Finally, Killua settled on, “Do you know about… Chocolate Robots?”

Gon’s heart squeezed, the organ beginning to feel smashed-up by Killua’s suffering and tentative voice. “Of course I do,” he confirmed.

“Do you think…? I mean, chocolate always makes be happy, even when it’s poisoned.”

Gon bit the inside of his cheek. He clutched the towels hard between his fingers and the soft wet fibers shredded in his hand. “We’ll get all the Chocolate Robots you can carry just as soon as the train stops.”

Killua’s eyes took up so much of his face, bright and sparkling with more hues of blue than Gon could even count. He fought to hide his excited smile and failed. “Really?”

“Really,” Gon said. “Now, let’s get you changed into something dry.”

He tossed the ripped paper towels into the garbage and set to work loosening the cinched-up belt at Killua’s waist. The shorts and underwear slipped down wetly and Gon put everything into the sink. Then, he wet a fresh fistful of paper towels and started patting Killua down as best he could. Gods above, so much of Killua’s baby-soft skin was bruised and scraped and scarred. Gon felt like there was no place he could touch that wouldn’t inflict more pain. His hand shook as he tried his best to clean Killua up without hurting him.

“I can do it,” Killua ventured.

Gon got a fresh handful and handed it over, partly-relieved and partly-ashamed at his own weakness.

Killua wiped himself down clinically and Gon hated to think that the gesture looked practiced. Killua didn’t even seem to mind the grievous injuries on his thighs and hips. ‘Good assassins have to hold it,’ he had said. Gon didn’t think he could take learning what else ‘good assassins’ had to go through.

“Done!” Killua said cheerfully once he had dried himself too.

“Do you need help getting dressed?” Gon asked.

“I can do it,” Killua told him.

Gon handed over the clothes the woman had given to them.

Killua held them at arm’s length for a moment, feeling out the material with tentative fingers. “It’s so… soft,” he murmured. He unfolded a pastel blue t-shirt with a cute dinosaur printed on the front and a pair of black cotton shorts. Killua pulled them up and Gon couldn’t help but notice how the fabric hung off his slender frame. Killua gave a little shudder of delight, cheeks flushing pink when Gon noticed and smiled. “It’s… it’s just warm and dry and soft. It’s nice.”

“You deserve nice things,” Gon said gently.

Killua flushed more deeply. He looked like he wanted to say something, but wasn’t sure what.

Gon gingerly patted the top of his head and then turned to the soiled clothes in the sink. He dumped some hand soap onto them, gave a vigorous scrub, and then wrung everything out. If he hung them out the train window, they might be dry enough to go into his backpack by the time they arrived in the next town.

“Come on,” Gon said and held out his free hand to Killua. “Let’s go back to our seats. We should be in town soon and we’ll get some Chocolate Robots.”

Killua stared at Gon’s proffered hand for a long moment before timidly taking his fingers.

Gon gave his cold little hand a squeeze, opened the bathroom door, and led the way back to their seats. The woman flashed a comforting smile in his direction and Gon inclined his head in gratitude. He opened the train window, hung the clothes out, and then closed the window to hold them like that. Killua watched the fabric flapping in the breeze with wonder.

“Here, sit next to me,” Gon said since Killua’s seat was still damp. He would give some funds to the conductor when they disembarked to cover the cleaning costs. He tried not to lose his composure all over again when Killua appeared surprised not to be forced to have to sit right back in the mess. What kind of monsters were the Zoldycks? Everything Gon had imagined, suspected, and learned after going through the Testing Gate was cast in a renewed shadow of horror and anger.

Killua practically vibrated in his seat beside Gon, alternately glancing at him and then looking away with a hidden smile when Gon happened to turn his way. Gon pretended not to notice when Killua scooted closer until they were just a hair’s breadth apart. Killua reached out, hesitated, and started to pull away. Wordlessly, Gon held out his hand. Killua looked shyly up at him, his lower lip drawn between his teeth. Then, slowly, with a cautiousness that hurt, he reached out and gripped Gon’s fingers. Gon squeezed his hand in response.

XXX

Questions, comments, concerns? 


	3. The Sweetness of Chocolate

“A Little Space” is kind of a pun on the idea of age play, you know, like “Sub Space” or “Dom Space.”

XXX

The train ground to a halt a few hours later. Gon gathered the mostly-dry clothing from the makeshift clothesline and stuffed it all into his pack. He smiled again at the woman who had helped them, explained the situation to the conductor while Killua pressed guiltily against his leg, and then disembarked into the buttery afternoon. Gon was starving and he could only imagine how hungry Killua was, though the boy made no complaints.

“Let’s get something to eat,” Gon said. “Then we have another long ride ahead of us.”

“Okay!” Killua chirped. He was still delightedly holding Gon’s hand, sticking close to his side.

“You still want Chocolate Robots?” Gon asked.

Killua paused, his mouth curling with something between a troubled frown and an enthusiastic grin. “Really?”

“I told you we would get as many as you could carry once we got off the train and we’re off the train,” Gon told him brightly. He looked around the town square, wondering which quaint shop was more likely to have the mass-produced chocolate treats Killua so adored.

“I don’t have to… do anything?” Killua asked in a small voice.

“Like what?” Gon asked, scanning the storefronts distractedly.

“Like… kill someone,” Killua murmured.

Gon’s hand tightened convulsively around Killua’s little fingers.

Killua winced. “Sorry,” he said softly. “I will, if you want me to, but I don’t need the chocolate. I don’t really want it, okay?”

Gon tugged Killua out of the way of the flow of pedestrians and knelt down to meet his eyes.

Killua squirmed in his grip at first but then pulled himself together and met Gon’s gaze like a man being walked to the gallows.

“Killua, remember when I told you that you weren’t with your family? That I wanted you to be happy?”

The boy nodded apprehensively.

“Well, that’s still true. I just want you to be happy, Killua. You don’t have to do anything to earn that.”

“Okay,” Killua said lowly though it was clear he was doubtful.

Gon didn’t know how else to soothe his fears. He took Killua by the hand again, chose a shop at random, and ducked inside. As luck would have it, they had an entire wall of Chocolate Robots. The brightly-colored boxes were stacked in neat rows and arranged in the shape of a robot on the end cap. Gon wanted to empty his account to buy Killua all the chocolate he could possibly stand, but such a thing wasn’t realistic—not while the strange nen-user was after them. Killua loitered uncertainly at his side, his hand cold and stiff in Gon’s.

“Go ahead and pick five,” Gon said. Any more would be difficult to stuff into his backpack.

Killua’s face lit up. He tugged Gon with him to the wall of sweets and then hesitated again, “Which one is your favorite?”

“The milk chocolate ones with peanuts,” Gon told Killua.

Killua nodded thoughtfully and chose one of those first. He glanced at Gon when he did so, his lips twisted in a tentative smile. Gon grinned back at him, even as his heart flopped around like a fish pulled onto the scorching sand. He wanted to do something nice for Killua and Kilua was still bracing for the other shoe to drop, for Gon to be displeased with his choices, for punishment that he didn’t deserve. Killua chose the second one carefully, watching Gon from the corner of his eye, tension riding high in his little shoulders. When Gon continued to smile, a sickening worry melted off Killua’s bones. He chose three more with a beaming grin.

Gon checked out and accepted the paper bag from the woman behind the counter.

“Have a nice day,” she said.

“Thank you,” Killua said politely. “You have a nice day too, ma’am.”

“What a sweetheart,” she said warmly. “And so well-mannered too!”

Killua flushed, his shoulders lifting like armored plates.

Gon chuckled and fluffed Killua’s snowy hair. “He’s the best,” he said smoothly and held out his hand for Killua to take. He didn’t really want to leave an impression on anyone, but he doubted the person pursuing them would think Gon had bothered to shop for chocolate while they were on the run.

Killua slipped his fingers into Gon’s hesitantly.

They departed the shop and waited a moment for their eyes to adjust to the buttery sunlight outside.

Killua clung to Gon’s hand forcefully, his grip almost tight enough to hurt. “Did you… really mean that?” he whispered.

“What?” Gon asked absently. He scrutinized the nearest tourists with his nen, but no one stood out as a threat. Hopefully, the attacker hadn’t been able to follow them from the inn. Gon didn’t think he had had a chance to spot him before the flying rubble had knocked Gon off the rooftops and Gon still hadn’t sensed any ominous presences following them.

“That I’m…” Killua swallowed and looked away. “Um, never mind.”

Gon paused to look at the child. “What? You can ask me anything.”

Killua shuffled, his cheeks and the tips of his ears glowing pink. “Um, when you told that lady,” he asked haltingly, “I was the best… did you mean that?”

Gon swallowed the lump that suddenly lodged in his throat. Killua’s voice was quiet and disbelieving, fragile and weak, as though there was no possible way Gon could mean something like that, as though Gon was lying or putting up a cover story. “Of course, Killua,” he said assuredly. “Do you want to know something else?”

Killua looked nervous, like a dog expecting to be kicked, but he nodded regardless.

“You’re my best friend,” Gon said and slipped his fingers through the cool silk of Killua’s silvery hair, pushing it back so he could see the boy’s face better.

Killua’s eyes were wide and shocked in a way that would have been comical if it wasn’t so sad. “Your best friend?”

In the distance, the train whistle blew for boarding.

“Oh no!” Gon shouted. “Come here, Killua!” He quickly swept Killua’s little body up into his arms and started jogging back towards the station. Killua hesitated only a moment before he wrapped his arms around Gon’s neck and hung on tightly. As before, Gon loitered until the last possible moment before slipping between the closing doors. He made his way to their new seats and set Killua down gingerly. “Sorry about that. I lost track of time. I meant to get us some real food, but I guess the chocolate will have to do.”

Killua’s face lit up. “Nothing but chocolate for lunch?”

Gon couldn’t help but smirk. “That’s not too difficult for you, is it?”

“Nope!” Killua said brightly.

Gon handed over the sack of Chocolate Robots and watched as Killua rifled for the one he wanted most. Gon wasn’t surprised when he pulled out the one with peanuts—Gon’s favorite—and smiled shyly.

“Here,” Killua said. “You should eat this one.”

Gon accepted the treat with a grin. “Thanks.”

Killua opened a white chocolate robot for himself, glancing at Gon as though for permission. When Gon didn’t say anything, he began eating slowly, breaking off pieces in a state of bliss and savoring each sliver as it melted on his tongue. He stared out the window, watching the scenery flicker by in a near-blur.

Gon ate his chocolate much faster, crunching the nuts noisily. When he finished, Killua was quick to offer him a second. “No, no,” Gon said lightly. “The rest of those are for you, Killua.”

“I can share,” Killua insisted. “You can have the rest, I don’t mind.”

“I’m good,” Gon told him. “We’ll get some real food at the next stop when we meet up with Leorio and Kurapika.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

Killua began to wrap up the chocolate he was still nibbling, stowing the remains of robot in the shop’s bag.

“You can keep eating, Killua,” Gon offered.

For a moment, Killua stiffened. Then, his shoulders loosened up and he confessed haltingly, “I’m full, actually. I’m… not used to eating a lot. It’s part of my training. Good assassins can go days without eating.”

Even though he didn’t want to know—he _really_ didn’t want to know—Gon found himself asking, “What’s the longest you’ve gone without eating?”

With a touch of pride, Killua declared, “I can go five days before I’m too weak to move and I start getting sick. My training has only lasted a week so far. Mommy says if I keep working at it, I’ll be able to last as long as three weeks.” Killua’s little voice trailed off when he saw the expression Gon’s face. “But, um, I can eat more now, if you want.”

Gon swallowed the needles of horror in his throat. “No, no,” he said as levelly as he could manage. “Just eat what you want, okay? Don’t make yourself sick.”

Killua twisted paper bag around in his lap. Then, after a moment of consideration, he removed the white chocolate robot and began eating it in bigger bites. He was hungry, Gon realized, but he had been pacing himself to save some for later or to give off the appearance of not being hungry. At such a tender age, Killua was routinely starved for days with the end goal of having him last weeks without food. What kind of monsters were the Zoldycks?

Killua finished off the Chocolate Robot with a sigh and folded the wrapper up neatly. “That was so tasty,” he said cheerfully. “Thank you, Gon.”

“Anytime,” Gon said mechanically.

Killua fidgeted in his seat, kicking his heels and moving the bag around and around in his lap.

After last time, Gon was quick to offer, “Do you need to use the bathroom?”

Killua flushed. “No! I’m fine,” he said.

Gon watched him as he forced himself still. “Is there something else you want?”

“Well, um,” Killua mumbled. He looked away, a blush still riding high in his pale cheeks, but his young face was much easier to read than the Killua that Gon was used to.

“It’s okay,” Gon urged. “You can ask me for anything. If I can get it for you, I will.”

“Can I, um, sit next to you again?” Killua managed. “It’s okay if I can’t! I mean, I just—”

“Killua,” Gon interrupted and hated himself just a little when Killua flinched at his raised voice. “Of course you can sit next to me. Come here.”

Killua hopped gleefully to his feet, bounced across the little space between their train seats, and plopped beside Gon. He beamed at him, blue eyes huge and delighted. Without thinking, Gon reached to pet him. Killua stayed very still as Gon carded his fingers through his overgrown fluffy white tresses, smoothing them back from his face and tucking them behind the shell of his ear. Killua shivered, a tremor running through the whole of his little body.

“Sorry,” Gon said and withdrew his hand slightly. “Did that hurt?”

“No,” Killua murmured. “It felt… nice. Your hand is warm.”

Gon fought the implications of that sentence and reached out again, patting Killua’s head gently.

Killua’s blue eyes fluttered shut and he gave a little thrum of happiness.

“Do you want to try to get some sleep? It’ll make the train ride faster,” Gon offered.

“No, I’m not tired.”

Gon slipped his hand down to Killua’s shoulder and tugged him a little closer. The child moved easily to Gon’s whims, seating himself flush against his side without being asked. Gon rubbed his little back gently, but Killua let out a hissing breath and Gon was reminded sharply of the horrific whip-marks, cuts, bruises, and scars on his papery skin. When they reached Leorio, he should have the doctor-in-training check out Killua’s injuries. Instead, he rested his big hand gently around Killua’s ribs, holding him close and stroking absently with just the soft touch of his thumb.

Killua sat stiffly against Gon’s side for a long moment, breathing shallowly, like Gon might forget about his presence if he just didn’t make any sudden movements. Gon had seen the same reaction in the Killua he was used to—often when he hugged Killua or sat close to him or grabbed his hand without warning. Killua always stiffened at first, but he melted if Gon was just patient and so Gon waited. He wasn’t disappointed. After an achingly-long moment, little Killua sagged into his side, burrowing like a small animal and letting out a big tense breath that he had been holding.

Gon didn’t speak, even though he wanted nothing more than to try to reassure Killua that he was safe with Gon. Instead, he continued to rasp his thumb against Killua’s side without pause, keeping a steady and soothing rhythm. Killua was young enough that he would probably doze off regardless of his protests or what ‘good assassins’ were expected to do. Killua shifted slightly, curling a little tighter beneath Gon’s arm and tangling his fingers in the hem of Gon’s shirt.

Gon wanted to press a kiss to his soft white hair, to let his lips linger on the fragile slope of Killua’s skull, to breathe in the baby-sweet scent of his skin, but he didn’t dare move. He didn’t want to disturb Killua or frighten him away. He remained where he was seated, holding his precious friend gently to his side.

Between the sunlight streaming through the train window, the rumbling of the large vehicle over the tracks, and Killua’s pliant warmth against his side, Gon fought an uphill battle against drowsiness. He reached out with his nen, scouring the occupants of the train again. There were fewer passengers than before as they left the city behind and no one stuck out. Maybe Gon could close his eyes for just a few moments.

“Ah, so that’s how little Killua escaped from me,” came a voice.

XXX

Surprise Saturday update because you all left me such lovely comments!

Questions, comments, concerns?


	4. Make It Worse

So sorry! I bought a strobe light to add to my Halloween décor and spent all yesterday playing with it.

XXX

The train car shrank immediately, the walls and windows closing in. It was too small for Gon’s Jajanken and Gon usually used Killua as a distraction while he built up his power. He wouldn’t dare leave Killua’s side now. There were also a few scattered innocents—an old woman reading her book, a teenager with headphones in, a young couple traveling together. This was not the time or the place for the mysterious nen-user to catch up to them. Gon could have kicked himself for letting his guard down, but what was done was done. His hackles rose immediately and he snapped his head around to glare at the strange nen-user.

Immediately, the man raised his hands in surrender and took a step back. He plopped into a seat across the aisle from them and heaved a big sigh. “I knew this job was too good to be true,” he muttered under his breath. “If it sounds too easy, it usually is.”

“Who are you?” Gon demanded. He felt Killua come awake under his hand, stiffening with alarm and holding his breath, and slipped his fingers through the cool silk of his white hair comfortingly. He didn’t want Killua to react, not right now. “What do you want with Killua?”

“Personally, nothing,” the stranger said. “I was hired for my ability, as I’m sure you’ve realized.”

“Someone wants Killua little?” Gon asked. “Who?”

The man made a noncommittal sound. “I’m not about to reveal my client,” he said, “but I’m not a fighter. I was hired to hit Killua Zoldyck with my nen which should have reduced him to an infant. Then, I was going to pick him up and deliver him to my client. Killua wasn’t supposed to have a friend, especially not a strong one that’s willing to protect him.”

Killua’s cold sharp fingers bit into Gon’s lower stomach through his shirt.

Outwardly, Gon stifled the twinge of pain. “You said… Killua should have been an infant. What do you mean by that?”

“When I hit people with my ability, they’re reduced to the age when they last felt _safe_ and I was led to believe that, for Killua Zoldyck, that would be shortly after he was born,” the man admitted with a frustrated huff. “I hate dodgy information.”

Gon’s stomach dropped into his feet, leaving his chest hollow and aching. “When Killua last felt safe?”

The man continued as though he hadn’t heard. “But I’m not about to fight you for the kid,” he said. “He’s not worth that to me.”

Killua flinched.

Gon cupped his hand protectively over Killua’s skull, wishing he could shield him from hearing himself be talked about like nothing more than a tool, an object, a payday.

“But I can always feel where the victims of my nen are, so don’t think you can hide from my client once I tell him where Killua is,” the man continued.

Rage bolted through Gon and nen began to gather thickly around him.

“Ah, ah,” the stranger said. “If you kill me, it won’t get rid of my ability. Your friend will be stuck at that vulnerable age, well, until he grows out of it.”

Gon swallowed the burning anger in his chest. “How do we undo it? There has to be a way.”

“As if I’d tell you that.” The stranger got to his feet, brushed off his suit, and tipped Gon a mock-salute. “Be seeing you.”

“Wait!” Gon demanded and jumped to his feet with Killua still clinging to him. He couldn’t just let the nen-user leave without learning how to bring the Killua he knew back. “Stop!”

The stranger swung on Gon, his fist cracking into the edge of Gon’s jaw, and despite his statement of not being a fighter, the impact blasted Gon into the back of the train car. Killua skidded with him, huge blue eyes staring at their attacker in shock. The other passengers took notice of the fight and quickly scrambled for safety. Groaning, Gon forced himself into a seated position, one arm still locked around Killua’s waist. Killua was on his knees at his side, looking at him with concern and gripping his shirt with desperate fingers.

“Gon, Gon!” Killua said urgently. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Gon managed, even as his mouth filled with the taste of blood. He jumped back to his feet, holding Killua tight to his body with one arm. “I thought you weren’t going to fight us,” he snapped at the stranger.

The man gave a little shrug. “I lied,” he said plainly. “I figured you’d let your guard down and you did, but I honestly expected that one punch to knock you out. You’re tougher than I thought. Oh well.”

Gon bristled, anger swelling inside him. How dare this guy play with him and play with Killua’s age!

Killua gripped Gon’s shirt and tugged for his attention. “Put me down, Gon,” he said.

“Killua, no,” Gon said without taking his eyes off the assailant. “I said I’d protect you and I will. I won’t let him take you.”

“I could kill him for you,” Killua volunteered. His little voice was flat, but there was a painful tinge of desire in it—not to kill, but to be useful, to be wanted, needed, loved.

Gon’s heart stopped.

Even the stranger froze for a moment.

Gon wondered what it looked like to outside eyes—such a small child, offering murder as a solution with a smile on his pinched serious little face.

“Killua, no,” Gon protested. “You don’t need to kill, okay? I’ll protect you.”

Killua’s blue eyes were enormous. “But…”

“Enough talking,” the assailant snarled. He lunged at Gon.

Gon speed was usually his greatest asset, but he had never fought while protecting someone before and Killua’s weight, though insignificant, wasn’t something he was used to. He leaped out of the way, but overcorrected and reeled into one of the seats. The force of the collision ripped the bolts from the floor, pulling a great hunk of seat up behind them like a maw as Gon skidded for purchase further down the aisle.

The nen-user hadn’t expected someone Gon’s age to be so strong or swift and paused momentarily, shocked.

Gon pressed Killua’s face protectively into his chest with one hand, summoning his Jajanken-Rock in the other. 

The attacker jumped out of the way, darting across the tops of the seats as nimbly as a cat. Gon tore after him, but without his free arm to steady himself or even grab ahold of the seats, Gon couldn’t correct his pathway. He was moving too quickly and Killua’s weight pulled him slightly to one side. Jajanken sailed harmlessly a few inches past the attacker’s ear, blowing out a massive portion of the train car.

Brakes began to squeal as the train started its emergency procedure, pulling to a stop on the tracks. Shards and scraps of metal ripped off and clanged to the ground riotously. Air whipped through the damaged car, kicking up ticket stubs and other such detritus of traveling.

Gon stumbled to regain his footing, breathing shakily. He hadn’t expected fighting with Killua in his arms to be so hard. 

“Make this easy on yourself,” the attacker said coldly to Gon. “You’re not used to fighting with that burden. I’ll seriously hurt you to get to my payday so just hand over the Zoldyck kid and this can all be over.”

“Never!” Gon ground out. “I’ll never let you have Killua!”

Killua squirmed in his grip. “Put me down!” he protested. “I can fight too.”

“No!” Gon insisted. He summoned a second Jajanken, aura swirling in his fist and taking up his focus.

The attacker stood back, mulling the situation over. Then, he gave a little shrug, picked up a jagged piece of the damaged train car, and dove at Gon.

“Look out!” Killua shouted. All at once, his assassin’s aura tore out of him. The air grew thick and sharp like the moment before a lightning strike. His claws lengthened, cutting through Gon’s shirt, and he snapped around to glare fiercely at their attacker. His hair stood on end and his eyes narrowed.

Gon was used to trusting Killua and he reacted purely on instinct when Killua shouted. His head snapped up, his gaze sharpened, and he jammed his fist into the attacker’s stomach. At the same moment, the jagged scrap of metal glanced off Gon’s shoulder and sliced deeply into Killua’s bare forearm. With a yelp, Killua ripped himself from Gon’s grip and went rolling across the aisle as the train shuddered to a complete stop.

Gon spared just enough time to make sure their attacker was down for the count before turning his full attention to Killua. “Are you okay?”

Killua was crouched in the aisle, his hand plastered to a jagged scrape that spanned from his wrist to elbow. His blue eyes were wet and he sucked his lower lip between his teeth. “I’m fine,” Killua said quickly. “It doesn’t hurt.”

“Sure it does,” Gon said before he could think better of it. “Come here. Let me take a look.”

Killua stiffened, sheltering his wounded arm close to his body. “I said it’s fine.”

“Killua,” Gon said gently. “It’s okay. Come here. It looks pretty deep. Let me take care of you, okay?”

“Take care of?” Killua repeated lowly. Blood smeared against the child-bright dinosaur shirt incongruously.

“Comfort you. It means,” Gon fumbled, “like… to make something better.”

“Like medical treatment?” Killua asked.

“Yeah,” Gon said brightly. His mind filled with memories of Aunt Mito bringing him into her lap while she tended his scraped knees and elbows, blowing on the stinging antiseptic to take some of the pain, smoothing a colored bandage over the wounds, and giving him a kiss on the top of his head along with a chiding to ‘be more careful next time’ when she finished.

“Like when Big Brother Illumi gives me stitches?”

Gon wasn’t sure that the black-eyed man he recalled would be truly capable of tenderness. He certainly hadn’t been kind to Killua during the Hunter Exam, but maybe things were different between them when Killua was so small. Maybe Illumi was the one to comfort Killua after his training sessions, applying tiny precise stitches to the whip-marks and slashes on Killua’s little back. Gon had to believe—had to hope—that someone in the Zoldyck household had showed Killua what it was to be treated nicely.

“Then… I don’t need it,” Killua continued, shifting backwards from Gon with his arm cuddled protectively close to his chest. His white hair was still standing on end, his eyes wide, and his aura crackling with darkness. “I wouldn’t need stitches if Illumi hadn’t hurt me first.”

Ice lanced through Gon’s heart, his meager hopes dashed.

“I’m fine. It doesn’t even hurt that much,” Killua said dismissively. “Good assassins can handle more pain than this.”

Gon swallowed the razor that was suddenly cutting into his throat. “Killua, come here.”

Killua froze, his blue eyes wide, and he looked as though he hadn’t realized he was backing slowly away from Gon like a wounded prey animal slinking to hide from a predator.

“You’re not scared of me, are you?” Gon asked, bracing himself for the answer.

“No,” Killua said. “Good assassins aren’t scared of anything.”

“Then come here please,” Gon said. “I just want to help you.”

“I don’t need help. I’m fine,” Killua said.

“Killua,” Gon tried again.

“It’s fine,” Killua interrupted. “I can take care of it.”

“Killua, you trust me… don’t you?”

Killua stiffened, looking at Gon from the edge of his stunning blue eyes. He ducked his head, hiding beneath his fringe. Beads of blood began to drip between his clutching fingers, pattering on the floor.

Gon wasn’t sure he would be able to handle the answer. The Killua that Gon knew, the one he had traveled and trained and played and laughed with, had always trusted Gon—at least, that’s what Gon had thought. He remembered Killua coming grudgingly to him in Greed Island with bandages and ointments, dropping it all in Gon’s lap and plopping down across from him. He hadn’t said anything, hadn’t even looked at Gon, just waited, trusting Gon to do the right thing. Gon had helped clean and bandage Killua’s hands many times while they were there, always being so careful as he peeled the gauze away from the raw cracked skin. Killua had watched from beneath his bangs, blue eyes just a shade off from the sky at the edge of dusk. Gon had always thought it was because Killua trusted him, but maybe Killua had simply known that he couldn’t tend the wounds himself and just didn’t have a choice save to accept Gon’s help or Bisky’s. Maybe Gon was just the lesser of two evils, the less risky choice, the one who was closer…

“Yeah,” Killua said finally. His voice was low and twisted up. “I mean, you haven’t tried to hurt me. I know that… You protected me and got me clean clothes and bought me Chocolate Robots and I… No one’s really done that for me before so I… I trust you, I guess.”

A breath Gon hadn’t realized he had been holding rushed out of his chest. His ribs felt like they were caving in under the immense pressure, but he forced himself to smile at Killua. “You’re right,” he said. “I won’t hurt you. I just want to help. So please… come here.”

Killua crept closer, inch by inch, tiny step by tiny step. He left a bloody dripping trail in his wake.

Gon was reminded, painfully, of his childhood spent rescuing injured animals on Whale Island. Though it was mostly a fishing village, there was one farm on the cliffs where old man Johnson raised a flock of sheep for their wool and meat. He had a sheepdog that Gon remembered vividly. She had been black and white with soft ears and a long pluming tail that always wagged when she saw Gon. One of her eyes had been blue, like Killua’s, while the other was brown. She was a sweet dog, but Johnson had only seen her as a tool. She was there to protect the flock and nothing else.

Johnson didn’t let her into his home, didn’t offer her shelter, gave her only table scraps and rainwater, and never spoke to her kindly. Gon wasn’t even sure she’d had a name. Whenever she ‘failed’ to protect the flock from the massive foxbears or other predators that lived on the island, Johnson would beat her. Gon had stopped by on several occasions with the laundry Aunt Mito asked him to deliver to hear the pitiful yelps and squeals of the beaten dog. The first time Gon had seen the old man beating her, he’d shouted and argued and protested that was no way to treat her. He tried to get the old man to give up his dog, but he refused. In fact, while Gon watched in horror, Johnson gave a savage kick to her ribs. The sound she made as her body broke was one that still haunted Gon’s nightmares.

Yet the dog had still been so sweet. She came up to Gon whenever he came to deliver laundry, tail wagging and mismatched eyes bright. Killua approached him now with the same aura—the expectation of brutal treatment and violence, but that hope-against-hope that this time things would be different, that this time the offered hand wouldn’t deliver a smack.

Gon dropped to his knees to diminish his height, hoping that would make it easier on Killua, and opened his arms wide.

Killua made his way closer, hesitating just outside the Gon’s reach for a moment that made the breath catch in Gon’s lungs. What would he do if Killua thought better of trusting Gon? What if he turned and ran instead? Then, Killua closed the final distance between them with a few more steps.

Gon hugged Killua close, feeling the tremors shaking his warm little body. “Thank you,” he whispered into Killua’s soft hair, bringing up a hand to cradle the back of his head and cuddle him close.

Killua let out a shuddery breath, his arms still held tight to his torso. He was stiff and wary in Gon’s arms.

Gon lifted him up and carefully picked his way through the ruined car to their seats. He set Killua down and unzipped his pack, pulling out the few bandages that he had on hand. They were woefully meager, but he hoped that Killua’s injury wouldn’t need anything more serious than some gauze and cleaning. If it did, it would have to wait until they saw Leorio. At least, now that they had Killua’s assailant unconscious and soon to be in custody, it should be markedly easier to return Killua to his proper age.

Another large junk of the train dropped off with a clang. Gon heard an uproar of voices as people came to see what the commotion was all about.

“Let me see your arm,” Gon said as he unspooled the gauze between his fingers and gave the little antiseptic bottle a shake.

Killua curled protectively around his injured arm, knees knocking together with the desire to draw them up to his chest. “It’s fine,” he said softly. “You don’t have to…”

“I want to,” Gon assured him. He reached for Killua’s arm, fingertips sliding along the pulse in his little wrist. Killua’s arms and legs were as thin and brittle-looking as bird bones, but when Gon touched him, Killua’s fingers bulged with claws and he shrank deeply into the seat. His pulse was jumping wildly and his skin was clammy. “Killua?” Gon asked with alarm.

“Please, you don’t have to make it worse,” Killua said, cringing away and sheltering his slashed arm to his chest. His claws flexed and then retreated to rounded nails with a surge of will. “It doesn’t hurt, but… you don’t have to make it worse. I know good assassins can handle pain, but if it doesn’t hurt, you don’t have to make it worse.”

Gon stared at Killua, his mouth bone-dry.

Killua glanced at Gon from beneath his bangs, blue eyes wide and haunted with fright. “Please,” he said again, “It… it doesn’t hurt. You don’t have to…”

“Killua,” Gon said breathlessly. “I—I’m not going to hurt you. I’d never hurt you. I’m not going to—” he swallowed, almost choking “—make it worse.”

Killua regarded him, his lower lip sticking out as he fought tears bravely.

“See, okay, look what I have here, Killua,” Gon said finally. “It’s just a little antiseptic and gauze. I’ll just clean you up and wrap it, okay? Okay, so, it’ll hurt just a little when I put the antiseptic on, but not more than that.” Gon reached to touch Killua but the child flinched backwards, cowering into the tattered train seat. “Remember,” Gon said weakly, “you’re not with your family right now. I don’t want you to be hurt, Killua, and I would never do anything to make you hurt on purpose.”

For a long moment, Killua just stared at Gon and Gon kept himself steady and patient. He wouldn’t press Killua, wouldn’t make any sudden moves, wouldn’t touch without permission, wouldn’t make Killua think he had no say in how he was treated. The Zoldycks had pressed and hurt and touched and treated Killua enough. Finally, Killua let out a shaking breath and carefully uncurled his bloody fingers from where they were clutching his wounded arm.

“Good. Thank you,” Gon breathed and offered his palm for Killua to ease his arm into.

Killua did so, watching Gon closely for signs of treachery.

All around them, the train car was starting to buzz with activity. Carefully but quickly, Gon used a portion of the gauze to swipe the blood from Killua’s fine white skin to reveal a trio of superficial scrapes that spanned the top of his forearm. The wounds weren’t deep and had already begun to clot. If not for Killua’s age and behavior, Gon would have let them go but as it was, he wanted to show Killua what it was to be taken care of kindly and gently—the way he should have been taken care of all along.

“This will sting just a little,” Gon said and showed Killua the little travel bottle of antiseptic that Aunt Mito had packed into his bag before he left for the Hunter Exam. It had seen plenty of use and even been refilled by Leorio. “Are you ready?”

“Good assassins can handle any pain,” Killua answered which wasn’t really an answer at all.

Gon wondered what he thought was in the bottle—poison, acid, or worse? Instead of simply spraying Killua’s wound, he asked again, “Are you sure?”

Killua hesitated and looked like he wanted to jerk his arm away, but he pulled himself together and nodded slowly.

“Okay,” Gon said softly. “Like I said, just a little sting, okay?” He sprayed the scrapes lightly, letting the fine mist settle on Killua’s skin.

Killua sucked in air through clenched teeth, more with apprehension than real pain.

Gon rasped his thumb over the underside of Killua’s tense arm where the skin wasn’t broken, lifted Killua’s wrist slightly, and blew on the scrapes. His breath was soft and warm, ghosting over Killua’s torn skin.

The muscles in Killua’s clenched jaw loosened and he looked at Gon with awe. “W-what are you doing?”

“Just taking the edge off,” Gon said. “My aunt used to do this for me. It feels better, right?”

Killua nodded slowly, staring at Gon like he was a rare and fantastical creature.

Gon blew on the antiseptic until it dried and then patted the beads of blood off Killua’s skin again. Finally, he smoothed a stretch of gauze over the scrapes, wrapped the length of Killua’s arm, and tied off the ends. “There you go,” he said gently. “All better.”

Killua stared at the stretch of bandage in wonder, curling and uncurling his fingers curiously.

Gon’s guts twisted as he watched the display. Killua was so shocked not to have been caused more pain, not to have his injuries worsened into one of the gruesome scars Gon had seen on his body, not to be hurt purposefully and additionally by the people who should always have protected him. He was almost grateful when there came a shout from one of the train personnel.

“Everything’s fine,” Gon called back. “I’m a Hunter.” He pushed himself to his feet with grunt and headed towards the blasted-out section of the train car.

Killua bounced to his feet and stumbled after Gon, sticking close to him.

“I apprehended a criminal,” Gon explained. “He’s unconscious now, but if some nen rope could be brought so he can be secured, that would be great.”

The pinched brown face of the conductor peered up at Gon from the tracks, but he nodded. “Certainly, I think we have some in the back.”

Gon felt the cool nervous touch of Killua’s fingers on his wrist and turned his palm, grasping Killua’s little hand without being asked. “Is the train still able to move?”

“It seems so,” the conductor said as he looked over the car. “The damage is mostly cosmetic and didn’t spread beyond this car.”

“The sooner we get to the station, the better,” Gon told him. “This man wasn’t working alone.”

Killua’s fingers tightened around Gon’s to the point of pain.

Gon didn’t want to think about who had hired the strange nen-user to attack and retrieve little Killua. He wanted to believe that the list was short, but he knew that was foolish. There were certainly any number of people who would want the heir to the Zoldyck Assassin Line made young and innocent and vulnerable. Gon wanted to think it was so he would be easier to kill, but he had a feeling that it was worse than that.

The conductor scrambled away and returned through the connecting car door a moment later with a length of rope. He marveled at the damage and the unconscious attacker. Then, he spotted Killua’s blood-streaked shirt and bandaged arm. “Are you injured?” he asked. “Have you need of medical attention?”

Killua shrank back, his skin prickling with goosebumps.

After his display, Gon didn’t want to think what those words meant to Killua. Quickly, he answered, “We’re okay. Thanks though.” Then, he made brisk work binding the assailant in the nen ropes, testing the knots a few times.

“Well, I’m going to get the train moving again,” the conductor said. “We should be in the city before dark.”

“We’ll stay in this car,” Gon said, “just in case something else happens.”

The conductor squinted at the unconscious man. “And you’re sure he’s down?”

Gon nodded. “For at least a few hours and the nen ropes will keep him under control until he can be handed over to the proper authorities,” he explained. Mentally, he added, ‘Until Kurapika can get a hold of him.’

The conductor bowed out of the ruined car. A moment later, the wheels started grinding back to motion and the train was soon chugging along. Gon picked his way through the ruined car and plopped into the most intact seat with a sigh, towing Killua alongside him. The wind whipped and whistled through the demolished wall of the train car. Killua shivered in his thin borrowed clothes, his bare arms and thin legs peppered with goosebumps and bruises and scars. He clung tight to Gon’s hand, staring at the crumpled attacker.

“Are you cold?” Gon asked. He rasped his thumb lightly over Killua’s bruised knuckles, feeling the puckers and bumps of scars.

Killua glanced at him and then looked away. “Good assassins don’t feel the temperature or the weather,” he said softly. “Good assassins don’t get cold.”

Gon let out his breath slowly, pulled his green jacket from his pack, and fluffed it around Killua’s little shoulders. Then, he wrapped an arm around him and tugged him close. He could feel all the dips and planes of Killua’s bones. He was so thin and so small. Gon couldn’t help squeezing him tight, resting his cheek on Killua’s soft white tresses. He breathed out again, letting some of the tension ease from his shoulders. Killua sat stiffly in Gon’s embrace for only a moment. Then, he burrowed into Gon’s side and curled his little fingers in Gon’s shirt.

“Thank you,” Gon heard Killia whisper.

Wordlessly, Gon pressed a lingering kiss to the top of his friend’s soft head.

XXX

Questions, comments, concerns? 


	5. Dinner and a Show

It's the moment you've all been waiting for. [One of them!]

XXX

It was dark when the damaged train pulled noisily into the station, greeted by police and journalists and, thankfully, Leorio Paladiknight. Leorio was dressed casually in jeans and a sweater, his trademark sunglasses perched on the edge of his nose even though it was dark. Gon had never been so happy to see his old friend. He waited patiently while the tourists, commuters, and civilians disembarked with their baggage and cleared the area. Then, Gon gathered up his pack and shouldered the attacker like a sack of potatoes. He was still unconscious, which wasn’t necessarily a bad thing but Gon was starting to get a little worried about the level of power he had used to protect Killua—not that he would take it back. Killua deserved to be protected, to feel… safe.

Gon glanced again at his young friend. With his thin arm bandaged, the borrowed blood-smeared clothes hanging off his slender frame, the bruises and scars visible on his white papery skin, his huge worried sapphire eyes, and fluffy overgrown white tresses, Killua was certainly a concerning sight.

“Killua,” Gon called and adjusted his grip on the attacker so he had one hand free. “Ready to go?”

Killua looked away from the assembled crowd and bounded to Gon’s side. He reached out and then withdrew, his lips twitching with the ghost of a tentative pleading smile. Gon offered his hand and Killua took it happily. Together, they made their way down the steps of the train car and weaved through the crowd. The police tried to take custody of the attacker, but Gon flashed his Hunter Badge and they backed off. Instead, their attention was turned to the wrecked train car.

“Well, you certainly know how to make an entrance,” Leorio remarked.

Gon only looked a little sheepish.

Killua peered up at Leorio curiously.

For a moment, they stared at each other across the vast difference between their heights. 

Then, Leorio spluttered out, “No way! This is Killua?”

Killua stiffened, but didn’t retreat, meeting the older man’s gaze head-on. His nails bit into Gon’s hand, assassin claws on the cusp of unsheathing.

“Yup,” Gon agreed and hid his wince.

Leorio dropped into a crouch to get a better look, removing his tinted glasses. “My gods,” he said and then grinned. “He’s adorable. It’s hard to believe Killua was ever so cute.”

Killua glanced at Gon uncertainly.

“It’s okay,” Gon told him. “Leorio is the friend we’re here to meet. I think he can help you.”

Leorio snapped out of his examination of Killua and straightened back up. Now, he eyed the slumped man over Gon’s shoulder. “And this is…?”

“The nen-user,” Gon explained. “He attacked us on the train. He said he’s working on behalf of someone who wants to get their hands on Killua.”

“Then we should make tracks,” Leorio said. “I have a rental around the corner.”

Gon nodded and moved to follow. “Is Kurapika here yet?”

“He’ll arrive by car in the next hour or so,” Leorio explained. “He had to hand off his current job to make time for us.”

“I’ll apologize when he gets here,” Gon said.

Leorio beeped a nondescript sedan unlocked.

Gon opened the trunk, dumped the attacker inside, and closed it. Then, he opened the rear passenger door for Killua and climbed in after him. Leorio slid behind the wheel, turned over the engine, and pulled out of the train station. Without being asked, he began a complicated route that would make it obvious if anyone was following them by vehicle and then lose them in the twisting alleyways that Leorio took. Unfortunately, it wouldn’t accomplish anything if they were being tracked via the rooftops or an unknown nen ability.

Killua stared out the window while they drove. The streetlights played eerily on his pale face.

“So,” Leorio began inquisitively and glanced at Gon and Killua in the rearview mirror.

“Can we go over it once Kurapika gets here?” Gon asked. “I kind of just want to explain it once.”

“Sure,” Leorio agreed and turned his attention back to the road.

“Where are we going?” Gon asked after another ten minutes of driving. “This isn’t the way to your apartment.”

“When I spoke to Kurapika earlier, he didn’t think it was a good idea to just go to my place, especially if someone is tracking Killua. I rented a house on the outskirts of the city but no so far out as to make us easy targets,” Leorio explained. He came to a stop at a red light and waited patiently for it to turn green.

“Kurapika is smart,” Gon said softly.

“I know,” Leorio agreed. “I never would have thought of that.”

Gon rolled down the window and turned his face to the night breeze, scenting it to see if he could pick up on anyone following them. There were only the smells of the city though—garbage and exhaust and people and fried foods. “I don’t think we’re being followed,” Gon murmured. “But I can’t be sure.”

“If we are, they’re being careful and we probably won’t shake them like this,” Leorio said. “Should we keep driving until Kurapika gets here?”

“No,” Gon said. “Let’s get wherever we’re going. I want to get the guy in the trunk secured better.”

“Okay.”

With that, Leorio started driving with purpose. He squeaked through a few yellow lights, but it still didn’t appear that any cars were following them. He pulled into a little driveway in front of a cute two-story house with pretty black shutters and rose bushes growing around the door. There was a light on inside and the sounds of people laughing.

Gon glanced at Leorio curiously.

“I left the television on so it would look like I’d be right back,” he explained. “I also set up a perimeter alarm, but it doesn’t look like it’s been tripped. No one is here.”

From the trunk, there came a sudden thump and some muffled shouting.

“Well, it sounds like Sleeping Beauty is awake,” Leorio said.

Gon pushed open the door and circled around to the trunk. “He’s tied up with nen ropes, but we can’t be too careful.”

“Right, the last thing we need is another child on our hands,” Leorio remarked.

Leorio popped the trunk and looked down at the strange nen-user. The suited man blinked at them and then sagged dramatically in the trunk. Gon grabbed two fistfuls of his suit, hefted him out, and carried him into the house. Killua followed behind, carrying Gon’s pack. Leorio disabled the alarm, unlocked the door, and enabled it behind them. Gon marched the attacker into the kitchen, dropped him in a kitchen chair, and looped him with more nen ropes until Kurapika arrived.

The man glowered at them. His dark eyes were narrowed into slits of malice. “You should save yourselves the trouble,” he grumbled. “Just give me the Zoldyck. That kid’s not worth all this. It’s not worth your lives to protect him when my client shows up.”

Killua stiffened, his bone-white knuckles twisting in his bloodstained shirt.

Leorio casually gagged him and then said conversationally, “So dinner?”

“What smells so good?” Gon asked, ignoring the muffled protests the attacker was now making. He placed his hand on Killua’s shoulder and turned him away, guiding him across the kitchen.

Leorio lifted the lid on the crock pot. “Beef and vegetable stew,” he said and wafted the aroma purposefully in Gon’s direction.

Gon’s mouth watered and he drifted closer to the bubbling crock. Killua was drawn helplessly along with him.

“I figured you’d be hungry after the day you’ve had,” Leorio said cheerfully. “And nothing makes you feel better like warm delicious comfort food.”

“I’m starved,” Gon agreed. “All we had to eat today was Chocolate Robots.”

Leorio rolled his eyes. “Then let’s dig in!”

“Shouldn’t we wait for Kurapika?” Gon asked, even as he started opening cabinets in search of bowls.

“I’ll keep it warm for him, but we should eat. It’s already pretty late,” Leorio said. His eyes cut sharply to Killua behind his tiny glasses as he gave the stew a stir.

Gon hesitated as he pulled down the bowls, following Leorio’s gaze to Killua’s half-starved form as the boy shuffled awkwardly out of their attacker’s line of sight. Gon wasn’t looking forward to asking Leorio to examine Killua’s whipped back and countless scratches and purposeful burns and endless bruises and wicked scars. They all had known that Killua had been trained from a young age to withstand torture, to develop his immunity to poisons and electricity, to be taught to keep fighting even when his body was famished and sick and hurt. But it was one thing to know that logistically and another thing entirely to see the evidence emblazoned across his young child’s body.

“Are you hungry, Killua?” Leorio asked as Gon handed over the bowls and started to search for silverware.

Killua’s wide blue eyes moved to Leorio’s face, darted to Gon’s, and then hit the floor. “No,” he said lowly. “I’m okay. I don’t need to eat yet.”

Gon shut the drawer with a little too much force, startled. He glanced at Leorio.

Killua quickly backpedaled, though he clearly didn’t understand what part of his sentence had upset Gon and Leorio. “I mean, good assassins only need to eat every few days and I had that chocolate earlier so…”

Leorio was frozen, his hands clenched around the ladle and the bowls.

“Killua,” Gon said gently as he put the silverware aside and knelt to be even with him. “Remember when we talked on the train? About how you’re not with your family right now?”

Killua looked between Leorio and Gon, nodding slowly. “Yeah, but…”

“Leorio doesn’t want you to be uncomfortable either, okay? He wants good things for you too, just like me. We want you to be happy, Killua,” Gon explained. He gently touched Killua’s shoulder, giving a comforting squeeze even as he felt Killua’s bones beneath the thin tee shirt he wore. “So, are you hungry?”

Killua wet his lips. “So it’s not… poisoned?”

The assailant let out a muffled laugh, his dark eyes smirking at them over his gag.

Leorio shot him a deathly glare.

“No,” Gon assured Killua. He could feel the minute tremors running through Killua’s little body, his worries hidden almost completely behind a stiff façade. “It’s not. We’d never poison you, Killua. We’d never do anything to make you sick or hurt on purpose.”

Killua shuffled his feet, twisting his bloody shirt between his little fingers. “Then… if it’s okay with you, I am hungry. I’d like to eat.”

“Of course,” Gon said with a smile. “We’ll all eat together. Will you help me set the table?”

Killua nodded, took the napkins and silverware that Gon held out, and moved cautiously around their attacker to set the table. While he was busy with that and Leorio pulled himself together to dish out the stew, Gon bodily scooped up the attacker and the chair, carried them both down the hall to the closet, shunted both inside, and slammed the door. He returned to the kitchen with a smile and washed his hands. Killua trailed over to his side when he finished, looking up with stunning blue eyes.

“You finished setting the table already?” Gon asked.

“Yes,” Killua confirmed with his little body braced rigidly for something.

Gon stole a glance at the table and saw that Killua had laid out the placements identically and even folded the napkins into triangles. It was more effort than even Gon would have done and yet Killua undoubtedly thought he hadn’t done enough, that he was going to be punished for some imagined slight. Gon reached out to place his hand on Killua’s soft hair, continuing his path even when Killua flinched and carding his fingers through the fluffy strands. “It looks perfect,” he said. “You did a great job.”

Killua let his breath out in a rush, smiling faintly at Gon. Almost unconsciously, he turned his head into Gon’s hand, visibly delighting in the gentle touch. His lids fluttering, thick dark lashes setting down momentarily on his cheeks like butterflies before flickering back open to gaze at Gon.

Gon couldn’t help but pat him a little longer, feeling the silken texture of Killua’s silvery hair. He wondered if the Killua he was used to would melt into a gentle touch the same way his younger counterpart did. He wondered if he could get away with trying it, if—when—they brought Killua back to his proper age. Finally, he withdrew his hand. He loved and hated the way Killua chased after the light caress, rocking forward on his bare toes before catching himself and shifting backwards slightly. “Do you want to wash your hands?” Gon asked so he wouldn’t focus on that reaction.

“Wash your hands!” Leorio insisted sternly before Killua could answer. He carried the bowls of stew to the table, fetched some glasses, and poured out some milk.

Gon chuckled and lifted Killua enough that he could reach the sink. Killua washed his hands well, taking the time to swipe the dried blood from beneath his nails and between his fingers and around his thumb. There were scars on Killua’s fingers, Gon realized, long ones that stretched the length of them. They were so white and pristine, sharp and purposeful, that they almost blended in with his skin. Gon thought of Killua’s assassin claws, the modifications that had been made until Killua was capable of ripping out a man’s heart with his bare hands. He wasn’t sure why he was surprised by the realization that such an alteration must have hurt.

Killua rinsed his hands and squirmed slightly in Gon’s grip, dripping.

Gon set him down and handed him a towel.

“Come on,” Leorio said brightly. Something about his cheer felt forceful, like he was putting up a front to disguise that he wanted to break down, and Gon couldn’t blame him. “Let’s eat!”

They sat down together around the table and Gon dug in immediately. He hadn’t realized how hungry he was until he had smelled the food. He supposed he was past the age now where candy was enough sustenance. Leorio had cut a loaf of crisp French bread to go with the stew, slathered with butter, and he passed out slices. Gon immediately dunked his into the thick broth, devouring it and reaching for another.

Killua watched Gon eat with gusto, but waited until Leorio brought the spoon to his lips before he ventured a bite. The earthy flavor exploded on his tongue, empty of the sting of most poisons. He couldn’t remember the last time he had had meat and potatoes and vegetables. The warmth of the stew slid down into his chest and stomach, tingling pleasantly. Killua tried dipping the bread, biting through the crust and feeling the butter dissolve on his tongue. He stifled a little sound of enjoyment, curling his bandaged arm protectively around the bowl so that no one could take it from him. When Killua’s spoon scraped the bottom, he could have kicked himself for not savoring it longer. Mournfully, he gathered the dregs of sweet juice and crumbs of bread on his spoon.

Leorio watched desolately as Killua ate like a starved street dog, cuddled around his bowl like it would be snatched at a moment’s notice. And who knew—maybe food had been taken from Killua’s mouth when he was hungry. Leorio didn’t really want to think about what Killua had been through, especially after what he had had to listen to only moment ago. However, as Killua scraped his bowl, those beautiful blue eyes downcast and his lips pressed together, Leorio rose from the table, ladled out a fresh portion, sliced another hunk of bread, buttered it, and set it all down before Killua. Those eyes turned to him with shock and awe as though Leorio had personally hung the moon. It was like a blow to the stomach.

“Hey Killua,” Leorio said and hated the way the child tensed in expectation of violence or punishment or some other cruelty for the simple meal. “Eat your fill, okay?” was all he managed.

“Okay,” Killua breathed. “Thank you.”

Gon watched the exchange quietly, his expression soft and sad.

Leorio wondered what else of Killua’s terrible past Gon had seen today, if simply eating dinner had been such an experience. He dropped back into his seat across from the two youths, but didn’t feel much like eating anymore. Instead, he moved his stew around and around the bowl and watched as Killua devoured in his second serving slightly slower. He visibly savored each bite as though it would be another week before he was allowed to eat again.

The doorbell rang when Gon had moved on to his third helping and Killua was still eating with rosy-cheeked enjoyment of his third slice of buttered bread. They both halted at the sound. Gon’s spoon paused halfway to his mouth and Killua’s fingers tightened around the bread.

Leorio pushed away from the table easily. “That should be Kurapika,” he said. “I’ll let him in and give him the rundown.”

“Thanks,” Gon said and polished off the contents of his bowl.

Killua lowered the crust of bread he had been eating, blue eyes darkened as he stared at it.

“Are you still hungry?” Gon asked.

Killua shook his head, his expression partially-hidden by his fringe of snowy hair. “No.”

“Are you sure?” Gon asked. He leaned forward across the table, stretching his hand towards Killua. “You can have more if you’re still hungry.”

Killua’s blue eyes turned to Gon and it was painful to see the amazement in his gaze. “No,” he said softly. “I’m full, really.”

“Okay,” Gon relented with a smile. “Was it tasty?”

“It was the best thing I’ve ever eaten,” Killua admitted and set the remaining crust into his empty bowl.

“Better than Chocolate Robots?” Gon asked.

Killua thought for a moment and then nodded his agreement.

A knot inside Gon’s chest that he didn’t think would ever go away where little Killua was concerned pulled tight. “Let’s clean up,” he said and began stacking the dirty bowls.

“Okay,” Killua agreed and grasped the silverware to help.

There was a little scuffle in the hallway and then Kurapika materialized. He paused in the threshold of the kitchen, mouth hanging open slightly in shock. Gon had a feeling that Kurapika hadn’t quite believed Leorio when he called, but there was no denying what happened to Killua. For his part, Killua went still and regarded Kurapika warily. Unlike Leorio, who had immediately made Killua bristle with discomfort, Kurapika was much more patient and cautious. He schooled his features, tucked a sheet of blonde hair behind his ear, and put on a warm smile.

“Hi Killua,” Kurapika said and went to his knees, keeping distance between them while Killua decided what to do. “My name is Kurapika. I’m a friend of Gon’s and I’m here to help.”

Killua put the silverware noisily into the sink, being careful not to turn his back on Kurapika completely. Then, he glanced at Gon briefly before asking, “To help?”

“To help you,” Kurapika confirmed. Then, he stretched out his hand in greeting.

Killua stepped a little closer, apparently drawn in more by his curiosity of the chains circling Kurapika’s fingers than any desire to shake hands. The chains jingled merrily when Kurapika moved and Killua brightened slightly, glancing between them and Kurapika’s face. “That’s cool,” he murmured.

Kurapika regarded the chains. “Isn’t it?” he asked cheerfully. “I can put them away at will, too.”

Before Killua’s awed eyes, Kurapika sheathed his nen-chains, leaving his long fingers bare and pale. “Wow!”

Kurapika brought them back with a tinkle.

Killua took his hand tentatively, giving it a shake. “Nice to meet you,” he said softly. “I am Killua Zoldyck.”

Kurapika didn’t bother to explain that they already knew each other. “Charmed,” he said.

Leorio came into the kitchen, rubbing the back of his neck, and glowered at Kurapika when he saw how well he was already getting on with Killua. “There’s dinner, if you’re hungry,” he offered.

“It was delicious,” Killua said, half to Kurapika and half to Leorio.

“I’ll eat something a little later,” Kurapika said and his meaning was clear—after he’d seen to the mysterious nen-user.

“It’s pretty late,” Leorio offered. “You and Gon have had a long day. Why don’t you take a bath and get ready for bed?”

“Bath?” Killua repeated doubtfully.

Kurapika straightened up and looked over Killua’s head at Gon. “Leorio and I will take care of things down here.”

Gon swallowed the lump building in his throat. He warred with himself over the injuries he had seen on Killua’s little body and his terrible reaction to Gon seeing them. He doubted Killua would appreciate Leorio looking him over and he also doubted he would find comfort in Leorio’s medical background. Maybe it would be better if Gon addressed his friend’s copious injuries in private. “Sure,” he found himself saying. “I could really use a bath.”

Killua glanced over at him, blue eyes huge, and twisted his fingers in the hem of his bloody shirt.

“I got you both some clean clothes and prepped a first aid kit,” Leorio continued. “I stacked everything in one of the bedrooms.”

“Thanks,” Gon said and held out his hand patiently. “Come on, Killua. Let’s go upstairs.”

Killua looked between them, his eyes lingering on Leorio for a long moment before he twisted his fingers through Gon’s and plastered himself as close as he could without becoming a tripping hazard. Rather than try to navigate the stairs like that, Gon scooped him up in his arms and gave him a little squeeze. Killua’s body was so warm, but now that he was holding him, Gon could feel him shaking faintly. Rather than address it in full view of their friends, Gon carried him upstairs, collected the clean clothes and first aid supplies, and carried everything into the bathroom.

XXX

Questions, comments, concerns? 


	6. Interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Interlude

Short chapter, but I wanted to make sure everyone actually read it and didn't just skip to the parts with Gon and Killua.

XXX

Kurapika waited until Gon and Killua had disappeared upstairs before turning to face Leorio with a blonde brow arched inquisitively. Leorio gave him a little palms-up, just as confused as Kurapika was by the turn of events. It wasn’t every day that the single most frightening and powerful youth they had ever met was reduced to a nervous and polite child. Although, considering how tame dinner had been, Leorio could see the allure of baby-Killua.

“Where’s the nen user?” Kurapika asked.

“In the hall closet,” Leorio said.

Kurapika’s brow raised higher, the only outward sign of his concern.

“He was talking smack so Gon put him away,” Leorio explained.

“Talking smack?” Kurapika repeated.

“Saying that we should just turn Killua over and that he wasn’t worth protecting and stuff like that,” Leorio told him, but even the explanation left his tongue feeling ashen. He could still recall the look on Killua’s little face when that bastard had said those things—like he knew they were true, but wished Gon and Leorio didn’t know it yet. It wasn’t the kind of expression a child should ever have to wear.

Kurapika moved down the hallway and opened the closet door.

The suited man blinked up at him and then smirked with difficulty through his gag.

Kurapika hefted him, chair and all, out of the closet and into the living room.

Leorio closed the drapes and flipped on a floor lamp, casting the room in a pleasant glow that didn’t really match the aura beginning to roll of Kurapika.

The suited man didn’t look worried—yet—but his eyes roved to take in possible weapons and escape routes. As he spotted them, one by one, Leorio blocked them off and then leaned against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest. “Should we put down some plastic or something?” he asked Kurapika.

Kurapika summoned his chains, looking at the delicate links where they folded over his skin for a moment, before shaking his head. “I won’t make a mess,” he said. He took a deep breath and then snapped open his scarlet eyes, spearing the mysterious nen-user with his stunning gaze for just an instant.

The assailant tensed, unable to look away from the gorgeous eyes.

“Good, because I’d like to get my deposit back,” Leorio said flatly. “This is just a rental after all.”

Kurapika outstretched his hand, summoning the perfectly round tip of his Dowsing Chain. “Don’t worry,” he said to Leorio. With a flick of his ring finger, the chain stretched out like a living thing. It dangled, swaying slightly with a life of its own inches from the attacker’s face. “With this chain, I will be able to tell if you are lying. For every lie you tell, I will cut something off you, starting with your fingers. Broken bones will heal, but your body won’t grow back. It’s in your best interested to give a truthful answer to every question I ask.”

The assailant’s eyes were impossibly wide, his mouth trying to work around the gag.

Kurapika drew the chain taut, stretching his aura into it so that he could sense his opponent’s heart. The beat was frantic. “Understand?”

The attacker nodded once, curtly.

Kurapika pulled down his gag. “Let’s start with an easy one. What’s your name?” The chain quivered—a warning.

He cleared his throat, but didn’t make a ploy for water. “Ted.”

The chain remained still and Kurapika said, “Good choice, Ted.”

Leorio let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.

“Now, tell me about your nen-ability.”

Ted’s eyes darted to Leorio and then back to Kurapika. For a moment, he appeared to consider fighting them or trying to lie, but at the end of the day, Ted was nothing more than a hired gun. Protecting his client came second to protecting himself. He sagged in his seat, the fight going out of him. “I call it Baby Face. When I use it, the person I hit is regressed to the age where they last felt safe,” he admitted.

Leorio’s stomach flipped uncomfortably.

Kurapika’s chain hung steady. “And how do we reverse it?”

“You don’t,” Ted admitted. “Usually, you just make the person feel safe again and they return to their proper age. Somehow, I don’t think that’s going to work with the Zoldyck kid. Honestly, I was expecting him to be an infant. At least, that’s what my client led me to believe.”

Kurapika’s face gave nothing away, as still and steely as his dowsing chain.

Leorio wished he felt as calm.

“Who hired you to attack Killua?” Kurapika asked.

Ted glanced away fretfully and then admitted, “One of the Zoldyck family.”

The chain swung slightly, catching on the attempt to hide the truth. “Elaborate.”

“It was… Illumi Zoldyck.”

The chain was still.

“Do you know why?” Kurapika asked.

“No,” Ted answered.

The chain swung faintly.

“Get me a serrated knife from the kitchen,” Kurapika said flatly. “Which of your fingers would you say is the least necessary?”

“No!” Ted shrieked and thrashed abruptly against his restraints. “I mean, I don’t think I know! He didn’t tell me what his plan was! Just that he wanted me to hit the kid and bring him to a prearranged meeting spot.”

The chain vibrated.

“You suspect the reason though, don’t you?” Kurapika asked.

Ted stilled, staring at the chain hatefully. “The Zoldycks are legendary assassins,” he muttered. “I’ve heard rumors that the current heir wasn’t showing the chops that it will take to be Head of the Family. I imagine that they wanted my ability so that they could try raising the kid again.”

Leorio’s stomach clenched. Like it wasn’t bad enough what the Zoldycks had already done to Killua and they wanted to do it all over again—to make it worse, to break more of Killua’s spirit and personality, to crush and mold his jagged pieces into the perfect assassin. Leorio would have retched if he hadn’t just had such a tasty dinner.

Kurapika’s face was impassive. “And Illumi knows where Killua is right now?”

Ted’s throat flashed as he swallowed. “I called him from the train,” he admitted. “I’m sure he’s been following me and he’s not going to let a chance like this slip away. He’ll be coming for his brother.”

Kurapika tucked up his dowsing chain, gagged Ted again, and pushed the chair back into the closet. There was some muffled shouting and thumping from inside, but Leorio and Kurapika ignored it. Together, they drifted into the kitchen where the scents of good food still lingered. Kurapika mechanically lifted the lid on the crock pot, peeked inside, and set it down. His hand was shaking very slightly, so minutely that Leorio wouldn’t have noticed if he hadn’t been looking so close. It was times like this that he realized how young his companions were.

It wasn’t fair.

“It’s wrong,” Kurapika said, startling Leorio from his thoughts.

Leorio only looked at his friend, uncertain what to say.

“After everything Killua went through at the hands of his family, after everything he did to break free and become his own person, they resort to something like this to get him back,” Kurapika continued. “It’s wrong and I can’t stand it.”

Leorio reached out and placed a hand on his shoulder, feeling the strength of righteousness vibrate through Kurapika’s slender form. “We won’t let them take him back,” he said lowly.

Kurapika met Leorio’s eyes and his breath caught at the sight of the pure scarlet color. Those eyes really were beautiful, imbued with more shades of crimson than he had seen in any sunset. For a long moment, Kurapika’s eyes blazed with feeling and Leorio remained standing with him in the empty kitchen, big hand resting on his shoulder as he stared at his friend. Then, slowly, the amazing color leeched away and Kurapika blinked his grey eyes with a tired sigh.

“You should eat something,” Leorio advised.

Kurapika nodded and turned his attention to the bubbling crock pot, lifting the lid and breathing deep. He would need his strength—if not for the fight that was sure to arrive, than simply to get through the night while facing so many horrible truths about Killua and his childhood.

XXX

Questions, comments, concerns? 


	7. Wash, Breathe, Sleep, Dream

It has been the most ridiculous week for me. I hope everyone else is having a better time.

XXX

The bathroom was enormous. Gon wasn’t sure why he was surprised after seeing the size of the kitchen and bedrooms. This was the kind of house that would very comfortably fit a family of five and two dogs. He let out a marveling breath and set both the clean clothes and first aid kit on the vanity counter between the double sinks. There was a big frosted window over the sunken garden tub, a tiled stall shower, and a toilet behind a folding screen. The lighting was bright but not fluorescent. It cast everything in a warm amber glow. Leorio had lit a vanilla scented candle or maybe Kurapika had suggested it. Either way, the lovely scent soaked into Gon immediately. He breathed deep, squeezing Killua subconsciously as he did so. The child cuddled into his chest without protest, little fingers knotting in Gon’s shirt.

However, the gauze bandage on Killua’s scraped arm was damp and sagging. His borrowed dinosaur shirt was smeared with blood. His bruised arms and legs were peppered with goosebumps. The Killua that Gon was used to wasn’t a fanatic about cleanliness, but he kept plenty of clean clothes on hand and often showered before Gon even thought about it. Getting little Killua cleaned up would probably go a long way towards making him feel better. Gon loosened his grip and set Killua down on the counter beside the supplies.

“Wow,” Gon said. “This is nice, isn’t it?”

Killua remained seated primly on the counter, knobby knees pressed together and hands in his lap. “Yeah… it looks a lot like my bathroom at home.”

Gon took in the stiffness of Killua’s small slender body. “Hey,” he said and gently took Killua’s hand. His nail beds were dark, the threat of his assassin claws lurking underneath, and Gon rubbed his hand gingerly until the blood-tension abated. “You’re not with your family, remember? So whatever you’re thinking now, it’s not going to happen, okay?”

Killua’s throat flared as he swallowed, his pulse jumping in his throat. “Okay,” he murmured, but he didn’t sound like he believed Gon.

“We’ll get cleaned up in the shower first,” Gon said, thinking of the blood and grime that he knew waited under Killua’s borrowed clothes. “Then, we can soak in the bath and I’ll see if any of your injuries need treatment before we get dressed for bed. Does that sound nice?”

Killua didn’t answer, pressure riding high in his little shoulders.

Gon didn’t know what to say to make him feel comfortable. Maybe it would be better to just get it over with—to show Killua that Gon wouldn’t hurt him. Aunt Mito always said that actions spoke louder than words. “Can you undress yourself or should I help you?”

“I can do it,” Killua answered.

Nimbly, Killua hopped down from the counter, turned his back to the mirror, and began to peel off the clothing they had been given by the kind woman on the train. In the soft amber light of the comfy bathroom, Gon couldn’t be sure if Killua’s injuries looked worse or better. As before, his back was brutally slashed and whipped. Bruises the size of grapefruits—the size of an adult’s fist—stood out on his ribs. Small round burns scattered across his collarbones and upper shoulders. Silver-pink scars covered almost every inch of Killua’s visible body and Gon’s breath caught, shuddering, like a bird in the cage of his chest. Killua glanced over his shoulder worriedly when he heard the ragged inhalation.

Gon tried to pull himself together, forcing a weak smile across his lips. “Does… does anything hurt terribly?”

Killua looked down at himself and gave a little shrug. “It doesn’t hurt,” he said quickly. Then, he made a little choked sound like he had bitten off the words Gon had already heard in his heart, ‘You don’t have to make it worse. Good assassins can take any pain.’

Gon’s stomach churned. “Okay,” he managed and pulled off his own dusty and sweat-stained clothing. He opened the door to the shower, started up the water, and spent a while adjusting the temperature. He knew Killua usually liked his water just the right side of totally-melting-his-skin-off, but he wasn’t sure if little Killua would feel the same way nor could Gon stand that kind of heat. He settled on something that was pleasant for hopefully both of them. Satisfied, he turned back to Killua with a thin smile. “Ready to get in?”

Killua had peeled off his clothes, unwrapped the bandage, and set everything aside. His slashed arm was red and angry, but it matched the rest of his little body and Gon honestly thought his dinner was going to make a reappearance. How could Killua’s family do that to him—on purpose and repeatedly until he was immune and call it training and say it would make him stronger and claim it was for his own good? Gon swallowed the burn in his chest because Killua was naked and shivering on the bathroom rug.

“Is the water too hot for you?” Gon asked instead.

Killua slipped past him and ventured a hand beneath the spray. He withdrew quickly, shivering again. “It’s fine,” he murmured.

Gon couldn’t decide if his reaction was because he felt the water was too warm or too cold. “Killua,” he said lowly and knelt on the rug to be level with Killua’s huge blue eyes. “Listen, please. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable. Will you tell me if the water is too hot or too cold? Please?”

Killua’s throat flashed as he swallowed. “It’s a little cold,” he confessed.

Gon smiled, thinking of the Killua he was used to. “I’ll turn it up,” he said and gave Killua’s shoulders a squeeze. “Let me know if you want it warmer.” He started the water in the tub at a temperature only a little hotter so that it would be perfect by the time they got in.

Gon adjusted the taps and then stepped into the shower, beckoning Killua in with him and closing the stall door. The showerhead was thankfully massive and warm water cascaded over both of them in a satisfying way. Killua hissed under his breath, shrinking from the water pressure on his raw back, and Gon was quick to adjust the spray to a softer non-massage setting.

“Better?” he asked.

Killua nodded. His sodden starlight-colored hair hung lank in his face.

“Can you wash yourself or should I help you?” Gon asked and squeezed some wash into a fluffy white loofa.

Killua held out his hand and said, “I can do it.”

Gon handed it over and watched from the corner of his eye as Killua carefully dabbed the grime from his bruised legs, cut arms, burned chest, and slashed back. He moved slowly and methodically, taking his time to clean each open wound or sore with light fingers. His hands shook, but he didn’t make even the slightest sound of pain. Gon couldn’t tell if his eyes were watering or if it was just the shower, but there was something hideously sad about Killua tending his ragged body so cautiously. When he finished, he passed the loofa to Gon with a small smile.

There was a portion of Killua’s middle and upper back that he hadn’t been able to reach. Gon rinsed and lathered the loofa again and then offered, “Can I wash your back?”

Killua stiffened, glancing apprehensively at Gon over his bony shoulder.

“I’ll be gentle,” Gon promised. “I’d never hurt you, Killua.”

Killua’s big blue eyes were red-rimmed and nervous, but he nodded. “Okay.”

Gon had plenty of practice tending injuries, but be moved even more carefully now. Killua had placed his fractured trust in Gon’s hands and the very last thing Gon wanted to do was chip more pieces from it. He started at the less-injured top of Killua’s shoulder before working his way gingerly down the boy’s upper back. Tiny stitches were interspersed throughout the awful whip marks. It was worse, Gon decided, that Killua’s family knew exactly how badly they were hurting him and continued to do so. They knew that they were beating him so badly that he needed stitches and they just kept inflicting pain. They were methodical about it, torturing Killua without leaving lasting damage to his body, and that was worse than casual unrestrained violence.

Gon carefully washed the dried blood from Killua’s papery white skin, revealing more bruises and scars beneath. The line of his ribs stood out sharply—gods, he was so thin. It wasn’t bad enough that his family was torturing him, but they were starving him too. Gon thought of Killua on the train, savoring his chocolate, of Killua at dinner, curled protectively around his bowl, of Killua explaining that his dinner was almost always poisoned, but that he was too hungry to care if he was sick. That sickness would certainly just make him hungrier and thinner in the end. Gon let out a shuddering breath and closed off those thoughts. Instead, he washed Killua tenderly until the water ran clear from his little body.

When Gon finished, Killua let out a breath that he had been holding. It felt impossible that he had given Gon access to his injuries and that he hadn’t been hurt further. In fact, Gon’s touch had been so gentle that he didn’t hurt at all. Killua marveled at him, the warm water sluicing over his bare skin.

“Can I wash your hair?” Gon asked as he hung up the loofa.

“I can do it,” Killua was quick to say.

“I know you can,” Gon said. “But I want to do something nice for you, so… can I?”

Killua mulled it over and then nodded once.

Gon gestured for Killua to turn around, squeezed some shampoo in his palms, and then began to work the soap through the boy’s overgrown silvery tresses. He could feel the bones of Killua’s skull, so small and fragile in his hands. Gently, he rasped his nails against the boy’s scalp and dragged the strands through his fingers. Killua was stiff at first but slowly sagged into Gon’s touch. He was soon shifting beneath Gon’s fingers, angling his head to get more of Gon’s touch in a certain place, chasing the caress, seeking more affection and care. Gon couldn’t count the number of times Aunt Mito had helped him wash his wild knotted hair, but Killua was reacting as though it was his first time. Maybe it was—maybe no one had touched Killua so kindly before.

Gon continued lathering Killua’s soft hair, unable to bring himself to stop. Killua didn’t protest in the slightest, but he was starting to sway drowsily on his feet and Gon figured they should finish up and relax in the tub instead. It wouldn’t do for Killua to fall asleep standing in the shower with soap in his hair.

“I’m going to rinse you off now,” Gon said, keeping one hand on the top of Killua’s head to hold him steady.

Killua jolted and an adorable pink flush spread across his cheeks and ears. “Oh, okay,” he said.

Gon tugged him under the spray and rinsed the shampoo off. Then, he made brisk work washing his own hair, rinsed, and turned off the water. “Let’s hop in the tub. It should be perfect now.”

Killua followed him out of the stall shower, shivering and dripping on the mat while Gon added bubble bath and shut off the taps flowing into the tub.

“Quick, hop in before you catch a chill,” Gon said and quickly stepped over the rim of the tub. He offered his hand to Killua, tugging the boy up and over easily. Then, he sank into the water with a grateful sigh, legs bent and knees sticking out of the water to make a space for Killua.

Killua hesitated, his blue eyes darting from Gon to the bubbly water and back.

“Come here,” Gon said.

Killua took a deep breath and slid to his knees, sitting properly in the water with his hands braced on the floor. Bubbles popped against his skin.

Gon reached out, carding a hand over his damp silver hair.

Killua flinched fiercely but didn’t try to pull away.

“Killua?” Gon asked. “What’s the matter? Is it too hot?”

“No, it’s fine,” Killua said. He shifted slightly, glancing at Gon from beneath his fringe of damp hair. “I can… hold my breath for three minutes already.”

“That’s cool!” Gon blurted without thinking. He patted the top of Killua’s head. “I can hold mine for nine!”

Killua’s pale face went positively bloodless and he slipped out from under Gon’s touch. All around them, the water sloshed as he trembled violently.

“Killua, um, wait,” Gon said quickly and reached for Killua again. “I didn’t mean—”

Killua reeled back, not outright fleeing because trying to escape would only make it worse, but cringing into the rim of the tub. “No, please,” he whispered. “I can’t—I can’t hold it that long. I can’t, please, I’ll… I’ll die!”

Gon’s heart turned to stone in his chest, cold and still and petrified.

Tears began to drip off Killua’s chin and run down his bared chest. Terrible hiccupping sobs ripped from his little body, made all the more painful-sounding by the way Killua tried to stifle them. He trembled and shuddered, hugging himself with his thin battered arms. “I’ll die,” he sobbed. “I really will. Please, I can’t… Not that long. Three minutes is so hard and that’s—that’s—too long! I’ll die if you make me do it so please—don’t.”

“Killua,” Gon breathed. He didn’t know what to say or do. Should he try to touch Killua or just pull the plug on the bath or call for Kurapika and Leorio? “Killua, wait, please, just listen to me.”

Killua cowered against the rim of the deep tub, his stunning blue eyes red-rimmed and dripping tears. He swallowed a gasping sob, biting his lip hard to be quiet.

Gon sat up, leaning towards him as close as he dared. “Killua, I’m not going to hurt you. I’m not going to… try to drown you.”

Killua stared down at the thick bubbles, still sniffling and weeping.

Gon pulled the plug on the tub. Whatever comfort Killua would get from the warm clean water was clearly not worth the trauma he was experiencing right now. Together, they sat and watched the water drain. Gon grasped a towel and tucked it around Killua’s shivering body. He hopped out of the tub, dried himself briskly, and wrapped the towel around his hips.

“See? Can you come here please? We’ll get you dried off and into some fresh clothes,” Gon offered.

Killua’s fingers gripped the edge of the towel so tightly that the bones of his knuckles stood out. He didn’t protest, inching closer to Gon with his face downturned and his lower lip bitten red. Gon wrapped a second towel around him and scooped the whole mess from the damp tub. He set Killua on the vanity again, pushing some sodden hair out of his little face.

“I didn’t mean to scare you,” Gon murmured. “I thought you’d like a bath.”

“I used to,” Killua whispered, “but then Illumi started holding my head under… I hate it. I get sick afterwards, throwing up the water…”

Gon’s chest was too tight. He couldn’t get a deep enough breath at the admission. “I’m not going to hurt you, Killua,” he repeated. “I’d never hurt you. I know that’s hard to believe, but I want you to feel nice. I want you to be happy and warm and not hurt or hungry or cold or dirty. I want you to feel safe.”

Killua breathed out, his cheek tilting slightly into Gon’s hand and that tiny display of trust was enough to make Gon’s heart somersault.

“How can I make you feel safe, Killua?” Gon asked.

Killua shook his head slowly, feathers of white hair sticking to his damp cheeks. “I… don’t even know what that means,” he whispered.

A ball of knives wedged itself in Gon’s throat. His eyes welled up and he didn’t bother to hide them, letting them roll down his cheeks.

Killua startled when the first drop landed on his hand and quickly looked up. When he saw that Gon was crying, he bit his lower lip and said softly, “Don’t cry… Please don’t cry. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you sad.” His little voice cracked like ice when water poured over it, fracturing deep in his chest.

Wordlessly, Gon tugged the child into his chest and just held him tight. After a long moment, Killua’s arms snaked from the nest of towels and curled around Gon, clinging to him and then beginning to cry in earnest. His sobs were almost soundless, stifled and hidden, bitten back, but Gon could feel his body breaking in his arms. He squeezed Killua close, stroking his hair where he wasn’t hurt, whispering nothings into his ear, wishing above all else that there was more he could do.

…

When Killua had exhausted himself crying against Gon’s chest, Gon helped him dress in the fuzzy pajamas that Leorio had purchased. Killua was drowsy and droopy, plaint and warm under Gon’s hands. Once he was dressed, Gon had to resist the urge to squeeze him all over again. He was just that adorable, especially in the rich blue space-patterned pjs. Instead, Gon hung up the towels, gathered him in his arms, and carried him out to the neatly-made bed. He peeled the blankets back, tucked Killua in, and give the pillow a fluff. The boy blinked up at him, starting to rouse more and more with each motion.

“I’m not tired,” Killua protested and started to pull the blankets down so he could sit up.

Gon smoothed the covers back over him. “Are you sure? It’s been a long day. Even I’m tired,” Gon said and gave a big yawn that wasn’t entirely for Killua’s benefit.

Killua settled slightly, gazing at Gon with his big blue eyes. His slightly-damp silvery hair was fluffy and wispy, curling adorably around his pale face. “I can stay up,” he ventured.

Gon gave into the urge to pet his hair, watching as Killua’s eyes fluttered blissfully at the touch. “How about this? What if I sing you a lullaby to make you sleepy?”

Killua blinked. “What’s a lullaby?”

Gon swallowed. “It’s just something to make you sleep better.”

Killua tensed, his shoulders rising and his fingers twisting in his blankets. “You mean like… when you get hit so hard you pass out?”

Gon’s fingers still in their gentle ministrations, struck once again by how little tenderness Killua had been shown. At such a tender young age, it once again stabbed the air from his lungs. “No, Killua,” he said softly. “It’s a song. It won’t hurt. I’d never hurt you, remember?”

Killua regarded him beneath his thick dark lashes. In the slant of lamplight, it looked like the thin skin around his eyes was bruised.

“Budge up,” Gon said.

Killua scooted out of the way—so quickly that Gon’s heart squeezed. Gon positioned himself against the headboard, fluffed another pillow at his hip, tugged Killua closer, and tucked the blankets around his little shoulders. After a stiff moment, the boy snuggled into the pillow, his hand curled loosely within Gon’s. Gon dragged his thumb gently over Killua’s knuckles, down his hand, and over the fine bones of his wrist. He had seen bracelets of scars on the Killua he was used to, ragged ropey marks that circled around and around his wrists. There were fewer of those marks on little Killua, but they were still there. Gon swallowed a lump building in his throat.

“Listen, Killua,” he began. Gon didn’t have a fantastic voice by any means, but he poured his heart into it. “Twinkle, twinkle, little star. How I wonder what you are? Up above the world so high, like a—um, dewdrop?—in the sky. Twinkle, twinkle, little star. How I wonder what you are?” Gon fumbled, uncertain of the lyrics. It had been a long time since Aunt Mito had sung to him and it wasn’t as though the words made much logical sense for him to puzzle out. “Sorry,” he admitted. “I guess I’m not very good. I can try again.”

Killua smiled drowsily up at him, cuddled into the pillow under Gon’s arm. He looked tiny in the queen-sized bed with only his hands and face peeking over the quilted coverlet. His cheeks were rosy and his blue eyes were full of wonder. “That's okay,” he murmured, “I've never had a lullaby before. It was… nice.”

Gon was reminded of what Killua had said on the train after his accident, how he had marveled at the clean clothes, about being dressed in something soft and dry and warm. He had said that was nice too. Once again, Gon found himself saying, “You deserve everything nice, Killua.”

Killua blinked at him, those blue eyes so bright and sparkling that they looked exactly like the night sky.

It was difficult, but Gon bent at the waist to press a sweet kiss to his friend’s forehead.

There was a light knock at the door before the knob turned slowly. “Gon,” Kurapika called and eased the bedroom door open carefully, mindful not to make any noise. “Are you finished? We need to talk to—oh.” Kurapika’s eyes settled on them and there was something pinched in his usually-stony expression that made Gon’s breath catch. A moment later, Kurapika disguised it behind a warm smile. “You're still awake, Killua?”

Killua looked like he wanted to hide under the covers completely, twisting them in his fingers. “Yeah… I—I'm only allowed to sleep every third day so…”

Kurapika's spine stiffened. Then, he came quietly into the room and stopped beside the bed. Slowly, giving Killua time to speak up or withdraw, he reached out and touched the top of Killua's head.

Killua tensed as Kurapika drew near but relaxed the instant the gentle touch washed over him. His blue eyes flickered shut, gazing dreamily at Kurapika through thick dark lashes. “Mm,” he mumbled. “Kurapika, 'm not tired. I can stay up ‘nother night. Good assassins don't need sleep.”

Gon’s stomach churned, acid creeping a burning path up into his lungs and heart.

“I'm sure you can,” Kurapika said softly. He kept his face neutral even as the muscles in his jaw snapped tight. “But you don't need to, okay? It's been a long day and I'm sure you could do with some rest. Why don't you close your eyes, just for a little while?” Kurapika gently drew some of Killua's fine silvery hair between his fingers. “When you wake up in the morning, I'll make pancakes.”

Killua shifted restlessly, blinking his red-rimmed eyes hard as he tried to stay awake. “But…”

“Would you like some warm milk with honey? It'll make you sleepy,” Kurapika offered.

“Honey?” Killua repeated.

“Do you like honey?” Kurapika asked.

Killua nodded.

“I’ll put in extra. Wait just a few minutes, okay?”

With that, Kurapika headed out of the bedroom, leaving Gon and Killua alone on the bed. Killua continued trying to stay awake, even though it was clearly difficult. Gon kept stroking his hair and the top of his shoulder, mindful not to press on any of his injuries. After a few minutes, Kurapika returned with a warm mug only half full and Leorio at his heels. Killua burrowed into the covers, peering at them tentatively.

“Here you go, sweetie,” Kurapika said gently and sat on the edge of the bed with the mug. “Sit up and drink, okay?”

Killua carefully extricated his arms and cradled the warm mug hesitantly. “Thank you,” he breathed without even tasting it.

Kurapika smiled softly. “Drink while it’s hot, but be careful.”

Killua nodded and took a slow sip. His entire face changed, softening and opening in the lamplight. His sapphire eyes were fragile and damp, his mouth weakened, and his chin quivered like he was about to cry. He sipped again, letting out a slow tremulous breath when he did. He clearly cherished every sip, savoring it, occasionally glancing at Gon and Kurapika and Leorio and hiding a secret smile.

Gon had seen that same face on the Killua he knew. It was something Killua did when he catalogued something precious, when he memorized a moment and packed it away in his heart so that he could take it out later and examine it from all sides, so he could relive it again and again when he needed to. It was something Killua did when he thought he would never experience it again. Seeing that jaded expression on Killua’s baby-face made Gon’s eyes burn with unshed tears.

Carefully, he eased the empty mug from Killua’s limp fingers, slipped out from under the covers, tucked them back around his little body, and pressed a kiss to his forehead. “Goodnight, Killua,” Gon whispered.

“Night, Gon, ‘Pika, ‘Oreo…” Killua murmured. He cuddled deep into the blankets and appeared to drop off immediately.

Kurapika gestured for Gon to follow and the three of them slipped out of the bedroom, closing the door softly behind them. They loitered together in the hallway for a long moment, unable or unwilling to leave little Killua.

It was Leorio who found his voice first, whispering, “I can’t believe that’s Killua.” His shock was deep and thick, even though he had already seen Killua’s diminutive stature.

“I know,” Gon said. His chest and arms felt hollow. Even though he had only been with little Killua for the day, he was getting used to holding him.

“It's hard to believe he was ever so sweet,” Kurapika murmured pensively, “or so compliant.”

“Or so innocent,” Leorio breathed.

Gon froze, glancing at the door. All at once, he wanted to go back in the room, slide under the covers, and cuddle Killua. He had a feeling his little friend would welcome such affection in a way the Killua he was used to would not.

“Let’s go downstairs,” Kurapika said lowly. “We have some things we need to discuss.”

“I don’t want to leave Killua,” Gon protested. “Can’t we talk here?”

Kurapika shook his head and placed a hand on Gon’s shoulder. “Come downstairs.”

Grudgingly, Gon followed Leorio and Kurapika downstairs into the kitchen. They took a seat around the kitchen table, facing each other seriously.

“Did you learn something from that guy?” Gon asked.

“His name is Ted,” Kurapika explained. “He was hired by Illumi to return Killua to childhood so he could be raised again into the perfect assassin.”

Gon stiffened, his hands clenching into fists. “How do we get our Killua back?”

Kurapika pinched at the bridge of his nose and swiped a lock of blonde hair out of his face. “Therein lies the problem,” he admitted. “Ted told me that his power reduces a person to the age that they last felt safe and that Killua would only return to his proper age if he felt safe again.”

The blood drained from Gon’s face.

“What?” Leorio asked quickly. “What is it?”

“I—I was talking to Killua after our bath,” Gon explained, “I told him I wanted to make him feel safe, but he didn’t even know what that meant.”

“This isn’t going to be easy, but we have to try to get him back to normal,” Kurapika said seriously. “As long as he’s young, he’s too vulnerable.”

“I don’t want to know what the underworld would think if they knew they could get their hands on a baby Zoldyck,” Leorio muttered.

“With Killua’s latent skills and talents coupled with his training, he’s a veritable gold mine,” Kurapika said. “There’s no shortage of people who would be delighted to have their personal assassin, especially one they could raise into whatever they wanted.”

“We’ll just have to protect him,” Gon said sternly. “We can’t let his family take him back. Killua’s—” his eyes brimmed with the first spilling of treacherous tears that he struggled to choke back “—Killua’s worked too hard to be a good person. We can’t let his family hurt him again.” He swallowed and said with conviction, “I won’t let the Zoldycks have him back. I’ll take Killua and go somewhere they’ll never find us.”

“That’s an honorable idea, but with their connections, they would always be hunting you and someday, they’d catch up,” Kurapika said. “You wouldn’t be able to stay ahead of them forever. You’d probably be lucky to last a week. The best thing we can do is get Killua back to his rightful age.”

“What if I don’t want to?” Gon demanded suddenly. “I don’t want to send him back! I don’t want him to grow up like he did! I want him to be happy, not poisoned or hurt or tortured! I want to take care of him!”

“It doesn’t work that way, Gon,” Kurapika said patiently. “You’re not sending him back. This isn’t time travel or an alternate dimension or anything like that. This is a nen ability. Killua has already grown up. All we’ll be doing when we fix this is returning him to the age he should be—the age he already is.”

Gon snuffled back a renewed wash of tears. It wasn’t fair—how could it be fair?

“But there’s nothing that says you can’t give Killua the best childhood he could have wanted as long as he’s with us,” Leorio said gently. “Okay? Just enjoy this time you have with him.”

“Okay,” Gon relented lowly.

“But… how are we going to make Killua feel safe?” Leorio asked.

Kurapika leaned back in his chair, dragging a hand through his hair. “That’s not an easy question to answer, especially after the conversation Gon had with him. I suppose all we can do is try to talk to him in the morning. Maybe if we explain the situation, he’ll feel better about it and…”

“Killua looks like he’s two, maybe three,” Leorio said. “I don’t think you’ll be able to reason your way out of this.”

Gon stared at the surface of the table, his eyes unfocused as he thought. “What about… when Illumi comes for Killua, we fight for him. If he sees us protecting him, maybe he’ll feel safe then.”

“As good a suggestion as any,” Leorio muttered. “But do you really think we can defeat Illumi?”

Kurapika flashed his crimson eyes and smiled. “I think we can make him think twice about messing with Killua,” he said.

Gon cracked a smile. “I won’t let Illumi take Killua away,” he said confidently.

“Well, I’ll certainly support you,” Leorio told them. “I’ve got the alarm set and it’s been a long day for you both. Why don’t you get some rest and I’ll take the first watch?”

Kurapika stifled a yawn. “You’re right,” he agreed. “Don’t hesitate to wake me if you need something.”

Leorio waved him off and crossed the kitchen to start a pot of coffee brewing.

“Goodnight all,” Kurapika said. He pushed in his chair and disappeared upstairs.

Gon sat at the table for a moment longer, picking at the crumbs that lingered on its surface.

“Something on your mind?” Leorio asked, leaning against the counter to look at Gon in the light.

Gon shrugged half-heartedly. “I’m just… sad… for Killua.”

“I know,” Leorio agreed. He took off his glasses and scrubbed his face with his hand. “Do you want some warm milk too?”

Gon shook his head. “I’m going to check on him before I go to bed. Do you think that’s okay?”

“I’m sure he’d appreciate that,” Leorio said as the coffee machine began to burble.

Gon rose from the table and headed upstairs after Kurapika. The door to the bathroom was closed and there was the sound of water running inside. Kurapika could be heard singing faintly while he cleaned up.

Gon didn’t knock on the bedroom door where Killua was tucked in. Instead, he carefully eased it open, being mindful not to make a sound that could startle Killua. His friend was a light sleeper under the best of circumstances and Gon had a feeling that trait had been ingrained long before they’d ever met. He gave his eyes a moment to adjust to the dimness, squinting at the little rectangle of moonlight that fell across the coverlet. The blankets were twisted and snarled. There was Killua, pressed against the headboard, his legs drawn up to his chest and his arms wrapped tightly around them. His eyes were wide and wet, his lower lip bitten red, and his little face lined with fear.

“Killua!” Gon said urgently and hustled into the room. “What happened?”

“Nothing,” Killua murmured.

Gon sat down on the edge of the bed carefully, scrutinizing the child. “Are you sure?”

Killua hesitated.

“You can tell me,” Gon soothed. “It’s okay.”

Looking away in shame, Killua admitted, “I had a nightmare.”

“Why didn’t you come get me?” Gon asked.

“Good assassins aren’t afraid of dreams,” Killua answered.

Gon brushed some sweaty hair off Killua’s forehead with tender fingers. His skin was soaked and clammy, but he didn’t shy from Gon’s touch. He inched closer, scooting through the tangle of blankets until he was tucked under Gon’s arm. Gon adjusted himself against the headboard and smoothed out the knotted covers, tucking Killua in securely. He didn’t sing this time. Instead, he merely hummed as he stroked the silken silvery hair on Killua’s head. The child cuddled into him, little tear-stained face turned into Gon’s chest. 

“I wish,” Killua whispered, “that I could stay with you forever.”

Gon squeezed him, breathing in the scent of his clean hair and skin. “Who says you can’t?”

Killua blinked at Gon, his blue eyes enormous in his little pinched face. “My family… they’ll be looking for me,” he said softly. “They’d never just let me go.”

Gon’s heart knocked hollowly into his ribs, shattering.

Killua’s expression brightened. “But! Whatever I did to deserve this—to deserve spending time with you!—I’ll do it again, whatever it is. I’ll do it over and over so I can see you again! No matter what!”

Gon threaded his fingers through Killua’s hair, cradling the fine bones of his skull and hugging him close. “You don’t have to do anything, Killua,” Gon murmured. “I’ll always be here for you.”

Killua made a pleased affectionate sound and cuddled deeply into Gon’s arms. His breathing began to slow and deepen as he drifted to sleep. His fingers loosened where they twisted in the fabric over Gon’s heart. His warm breath puffed against the skin of Gon’s throat. Gon curled onto his side, snuggling Killua as close as he could. It took a long time for him to fall asleep though. He kept staring out the window, jolting at every shadow, thinking it was Illumi coming to rip this precious child from his arms.

XXX

Questions, comments, concerns? 


	8. Injuries and Ice Cream

Oh my gosh. I am the worst. I completely forgot to post this chapter.

XXX

The sunlight slanted in through the curtains, falling across the bed in a warm buttery swath that made it feel like anything was possible. When Gon woke, it was to Killua very carefully trying to slide out of his arms and out of bed. Killua froze when he saw that Gon was awake, goosebumps breaking out on his exposed skin. Some of his visible bruises looked better, inching towards the healing shades of yellow and green rather than the horrible red-centered plum. The scrape on his arm had scabbed over too, but the uneasy expression on his face reminded Gon that things were not okay.

“Killua?” he asked groggily.

Killua pinched at the blankets with his fingertips. “I just… I have to go to the bathroom. Can I go?”

Gon sat up sharply, his throat tight. “Of course,” he answered quickly.

Killua smiled. He padded quickly out of the bedroom and down the hall to the bathroom.

Gon trailed after him and waited patiently until the door eased open again.

Killua peeked at him uncertainly, testing out a smile.

“Good morning, Killua!” Gon said cheerfully and ruffled his hair. “We should freshen up before breakfast.”

Gon stepped into the bathroom and opened the cabinet to find that Leorio had also stocked up on new toothbrushes. He ripped open one for himself and one for Killua. They stood together at the sink, brushing up and washing their faces. It felt a lot like what Gon was used to, except this Killua was small enough that Gon had to lift him to reach the sink. Once they finished, Killua beamed.

“Do you want to get dressed?” Gon asked, gesturing to the galaxy pajamas that Killua was wearing.

“Do I have to?” Killua asked.

“No, of course not,” he said.

“Then I want to stay like this,” Killua answered.

Gon smiled and took his hand.

Kurapika was standing at the stove when Gon drifted downstairs with Killua in tow. Leorio looked up from his mug of coffee. The dark circles under his eyes said that he had chosen to pull an all-nighter rather than wake Kurapika or Gon, but he smiled when he saw his friends.

“Pancakes!” Killua said brightly, almost jumping with excitement.

“Not just pancakes,” Kurapika said with a grin. “Mouse-shaped pancakes!”

“Mouse?” Killua asked. He extricated his hand from Gon’s and bounced across the kitchen to peer into the pan.

Kurapika had used some hitherto unknown ladle-skills to make three connected circles reminiscent of mouse ears.

“Wow!” Killua said delightedly. “And I can have some?”

Kurapika paused for an instant, stricken, before nodding. “Of course you can. You can have as many as you want. I even put chocolate chips in some of them.”

“Chocolate chips!” Killua said in awe.

“Sit down,” Kurapika told him. “They’re ready now.”

Gon quickly snagged some plates and Killua hurried to grab silverware and napkins. They carried everything to the table while Leorio fetched some glasses and orange juice from the fridge. Kurapika flipped the final pancake onto a big serving plate, shut off the stove, and carried everything to the table. They all sat quickly, smiling at each other.

“Coffee, Kurapika?” Leorio offered.

“Please.”

“Me too!” Gon chimed in.

“Not a chance,” Leorio said sternly. “Juice for you and Killua!”

Gon pretended to pout, giving Killua a wink.

Killua positively beamed, watching as Kurapika picked out the chocolate chip pancakes and piled them on his plate. “Thank you,” he said. “Can I eat now?”

“Of course,” Kurapika told him without looking too hard at the question. “Eat as much as you like.”

Killua dug in happily, chewing and swallowing in delight. He was a surprisingly neat eater considering his age and the stickiness of the syrup. Gon supposed with how little he was permitted to eat, he wouldn’t want to waste it on making a mess. The pancakes were filling, but Killua was still able to eat three. Kurapika wished, looking at his bony wrists and skinny body, that he could eat a little more, but he sipped his coffee with Leorio and just watched.

“That was amazing!” Killua said when he finished. “Thank you, Kurapika.”

“I’m glad you liked it. Would you like more to eat or drink?” Kurapika offered.

“No, thank you,” Killua said. “I’m full.”

Kurapika pushed his seat back and made to start clearing his plate while Gon polished off the last of the pancakes.

“Oh no,” Leorio said firmly. He stacked his coffee mug on his plate. “You cooked so I’ll clean up.”

“I’ll help,” Killua said cheerfully. He scooted his chair back, climbed down, and picked up his plate. He walked around the table and reached for Kurapika’s plate too.

Kurapika handed it over with a smile, palming his warm mug and savoring a sip.

Killua turned with his two plates in hand, the silverware rattling precariously atop them. Leorio started water running in the sink, turning his attention to scrubbing off the syrup so he wasn’t looking when it happened. He couldn’t be sure if Killua tripped or lost his grip or what exactly occurred. All he heard was the sudden crash and shatter.

Startled, Leorio jumped and turned to see what had happened.

The ruins of one of the plates was spread across the floor between them. Killua’s face was white and his blue eyes were blank with terror, his knuckles stood out starkly where he gripped the remaining plate. The fingers of his empty hand were curled and shaking.

Kurapika pushed his chair back immediately, the legs screaming as they dragged across the tile.

Gon had stuffed a large bite of pancake in his mouth and was struggling to swallow, his cheeks red with effort.

Kurapika rose quickly to his feet. Though his height was insignificant compared to Leorio’s, he still towered over Killua.

Leorio shut off the water and devoted his full attention to the broken plate. “Killua,” he began.

With a stifled cry, Killua dropped to his knees and started to desperately rake the shards of the plate into a pile with his bare hands. “I’m sorry!” Killua wailed, pawing the jagged remnants noisily. “I’m sorry!” The shattered plate cut into his palms and fingers, shredding his soft skin. Crimson smeared amidst the rubble, dripping freely.

“Killua, stop!” Kurapika protested. He knelt beside the child and gripped Killua’s wrists cautiously, bringing his frenzied efforts to a halt. “You’re hurting yourself. Stop.”

Killua froze under Kurapika’s touch, shaking, blood oozing from the cuts on his hands. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. He flinched when Leorio’s shadow fell across him, cringing. “Punish me however you want. I deserve it. I’m sorry.”

Kurapika cut his eyes to Leorio, silently urging him to give them some space. Then, he gently drew Killua away from the broken plate. “It was an accident,” he told the boy. “You don’t have to be sorry. It was just and accident, Killua.”

Killua’s pulse was jumping wildly under Kurapika’s fingers, but he wouldn’t lift his head. He stared at the blood-stained floor, hidden beneath his fringe of pale hair. His chin was drawn tight, his lower lip was clenched between his teeth, and his throat was bobbing as he struggled to swallow back tears.

“Killua,” Kurapika said softly. “Will you look at me?” He loosened his grip around one thin wrist and reached for Killua’s face, intending to tilt his head back.

Killua flinched terribly with the expectation of violence, but didn’t try to escape. He sat on the floor, trembling, as Kurapika closed the space between them.

Gingerly, Kurapika slipped his fingers under Killua’s chin and lifted his head. The ball of his thumb caressed the edge of Killua’s jaw tenderly. “I’m not going to hurt you, I promise,” Kurapika said softly. “It was just an accident. You don’t have to be scared. No one’s going to hurt you here. You won’t be punished. It was just an accident.”

Killua’s blue eyes were huge and filled with emotion—fear and hope, sorrow and guilt, shame and desperation. His dark lashes were wet, but no tears fell down his baby-round cheeks. “Sorry,” he whispered again. “I didn’t mean to.”

“I know you didn’t,” Kurapika said. “Can you stand up? We need to treat your injuries.”

Killua glanced down at his cut-up hands and swallowed thickly. “It doesn’t hurt,” he whispered.

“I’m sure it doesn’t,” Kurapika relented. “But you’re bleeding. We need to get that cleaned up.”

Leorio had fetched a broom from the hall closet, reaching around Ted who glowered at him spitefully. He shut the door and returned to the kitchen just as Gon had managed to gulp down his too-big bite and Kurapika was easing Killua off the floor. His hands were a mess, dripping blood, shards of the plate stuck in and to his skin. Passing off the broom to Gon, Leorio told Kurapika, “I’ll take care of him.”

Kurapika kept a hand on Killua’s shoulder, as though uncertain if he would try to bolt. “Leorio is going to help you, okay? He’s training to be a doctor.” Under his hand, Kurapika felt Killua tense further. “Is that okay with you?”

Killua nodded jerkily.

Gon set the broom aside and came closer to Killua, kneeling alongside him. “Hey, you’re not with your family,” he said for what felt like the thousandth time. Killua turned haunted blue eyes to Gon’s face, sniffling. “Leorio is going to wrap your hands up to stop the bleeding. He won’t make your injuries worse, I promise.”

“Make them worse?” Leorio bristled and then sobered as the words sank in. “The treatment might hurt,” he admitted, “but I’ll be doing my best not to cause you any additional pain, Killua.”

“It’s okay if you did,” Killua murmured understandingly. Then, in a voice so low they barely heard it, he added, “I don’t mind.”

Kurapika slid the broom from Gon’s fingers. “You go with them. I’ll clean this up.”

Gon nodded. “Killua, can I pick you up?”

Killua hesitated, shifting awkwardly, but when it became clear that Gon was waiting for permission rather than just grabbing him, he agreed, “Yeah.”

Gon scooped him up and carried him quickly down the hall to the first floor powder room. Leorio took the time to fetch the first aid kit he had assembled before following. When he joined Gon and Killua in the bathroom, Gon was running water to warm it and had pushed up the sleeves of Killua’s pajama top. He was holding Killua’s damaged hands over the sink, letting the blood run off into the water.

“Let’s take a look,” Leorio said and snapped on a pair of sterile gloves.

Gon shuffled out of his way, standing on Killua’s other side while Leorio addressed his hands.

Leorio carefully tweezed the shards of plate from Killua’s fingers and palm. Though he was focused on his task, he spared a glace at Killua’s little face and found that the boy was staring at him while he worked. His blue eyes were wide and concerned. The muscles in his hand, wrist, and forearm stood out with tension. His assassin claws peeked from his fingertips, quickly withdrawn in the span of a second. He was clearly braced for the moment Leorio stopped carefully picking out the bits of plate and instead used his tweezers to gouge into Killua’s open wounds. Leorio redoubled his gentleness, cradling Killua’s hand in his own larger palm and rasping his thumb gently over the unbroken skin on Killua’s outer wrist.

Gon leaned on Killua’s other side, idly watching both Leorio and Killua, uncertain if he should speak or not.

Leorio was about to start talking. He was practiced in the art of carrying on a conversation about nothing at all to distract his patients while he did something unpleasant. However, it was then that he noticed several circular burns on the sensitive skin of Killua’s inner wrist that crept up his forearm and disappeared under the sleeve of his pajamas. Alarmed, Leorio moved the sleeve back further and revealed an impressive array of scars, bruises, and cuts. His breath caught in his chest, as sharp and spearing as the glass he had pulled from Killua’s hands.

“These marks,” Leorio breathed. “Are these from cigarettes?”

Killua flinched, trying to withdraw his hand. “I—”

“You remember the training Killua mentioned,” Gon said softly. He reached to card a gentle hand through Killua’s fluffy silver hair.

Surprisingly, the child turned gratefully into Gon’s touch. His blue eyes fell shut, expression open and apprehensive but still so sweet, so earnest, so desperate for affection that he didn’t even seem to mind if Leorio hurt him now—just so long as Gon kept touching him, sliding his tresses through his careful fingers.

Leorio resisted the urge to search Killua’s other arm for similar marks. The Killua they knew often mentioned in passing that he was immune to poisons and a level of electricity that would make grown men cry, that he had been trained to withstand torture for weeks on end from a young age, that he could go days without eating or sleeping, that his family had bred him to be the greatest assassin in the Zoldyck family, but it was something else completely to see the evidence on his tiny fragile body. The bones of Killua’s wrist were birdlike in Leorio’s hand, slender and breakable, so white and already ringed with scars.

Leorio dug deep and steeled himself. Clinically, trying not to watch Killua focus on Gon’s ministrations, he cleaned the wounds on his hands. Most of the cuts were superficial and already clotted, but a few were deep enough to require adhesive butterfly stitches. Leorio carefully pulled the injuries together and smoothed band aids overtop. Killua didn’t glance at him, didn’t wince or whimper, didn’t squirm or fuss. Leorio caught himself wishing all his clients were like Killua and then wishing that none of them were.

“There,” he said and wiped the last of the blood away. “All finished.”

Killua looked down at his bandaged hands, giving a little experimental flex of his fingers. “Thank you,” he said softly and gave Leorio a crooked smile. “That feels better.”

Leorio peeled off his gloves and washed his hands in the warm water. “Let’s go get ice cream,” he said suddenly.

“We just ate breakfast,” Gon said.

“So?” Leorio asked as he dried his hands. “I say it’s time for dessert!”

A light switched on in Gon’s amber eyes and he smiled. “Okay!”

Killua looked between them, puzzled and uncertain.

“Do you want some ice cream, Killua?” Leorio asked cheerfully.

Killua’s eyes darted to the first aid kit, to his bandaged hands, to Leorio’s smile, and then to Gon.

“It’s not a trick question,” Leorio said. “Come on. Let’s go! Everyone wants ice cream, even when they say they don’t.” With that, he bounded out of the powder room, down the hall, and into the kitchen. “Kurapika, just leave the dishes!” He could be heard shouting. “We’re going out for ice cream!”

“What?” Kurapika responded shrilly. “It’s nine AM! We just ate breakfast!”

“So what?!” Leorio shouted. “I want ice cream!”

Gon helped Killua hop down from the counter and shrugged. “It’s too late to stop him now. Let’s get dressed and we can go out.”

Killua followed Gon through the kitchen where Leorio was bodily trying to push Kurapika away from the sink, scuffling in the mess of water and suds they had created. When Kurapika saw Gon and Killua, he abruptly gave up and turned away from the sink. Kurapika wasn’t the kind of person to come to breakfast in his pajamas, so he was already dressed and turned to Leorio to whisper about the logistics of leaving Ted behind. Gon ushered Killua upstairs, helped him pick out a clean tee shirt and shorts, and dressed himself. A few minutes later, they returned downstairs where Leorio and Kurapika were waiting.

Apparently, they were just leaving Ted in the hall closet, trussed up in nen ropes. What harm could he do? Now that they knew Illumi had hired him, it was only a matter of time before they were found.

Leorio loaded everyone into his car, backed out of the driveway, and headed into town. It didn’t take long for Leorio to realize that Kurapika was right. It was after nine in the morning on a weekday. The ice cream parlor he had spied the night before was closed until eleven.

“Darn,” Leorio muttered at the sign, peering through the glass with Killua.

“We only need to wait about an hour and a half,” Kurapika said. “There’s a park nearby. Why don’t we play for a little while?”

“Sure,” Leorio agreed.

Gon offered his hand to Killua, unsure if he would take it with the cuts on his hand, but Killua gripped his fingers eagerly and they all crossed the street together. The park wasn’t crowded, but there were a few people jogging around the paved path, an old man was walking his wiener dog, and a young mother was sitting with her infant on a bench. The sunlight was buttery, the air was fresh and crisp, and the grass had been recently mown. Gon made a beeline for the playground, but Killua paused on the edge of the sandy terrain.

“Something wrong?” Kurapika asked.

“What’s that?” Killua asked, pointing at the massive and colorful jungle gym.

“It’s for climbing!” Gon said brightly. “That was always my favorite.”

Killua allowed himself to be towed onto the playground and stood with Gon, blinking up at the colorful mountain of bars, slides, and rails. Gon gave him a little nudge, but Killua rocked with the motion without moving forward. He looked up at Gon, uncertain. Gon had thought nothing else in Killua’s childhood could possibly hurt him more than the bruises and scars, but this—seeing Killua not understand how to play—was almost worse. Gon swallowed the barbs in his chest and then tried something he thought Killua would understand.

“I’ll race you to the top!”

Killua’s blue eyes lit up.

Gon took off, throwing himself up the bars, but his size wasn’t an advantage on the jungle gym. Killua quickly overtook him, swinging and grappling through the tiniest gaps without even slowing down. Within a minute, Killua was precariously perched on the highest point. A few seconds later, panting, Gon drew himself up beside the child. Killua’s chest rose and fell in little jerks as he gasped, giggling under his breath.

Leorio and Kurapika waved to them from below.

“Killua!” Gon called and made a show of swinging across the monkey bars. “Can you do this?”

Killua beamed. “Of course I can!” When he finished his demonstration, he walked nimbly across the top without ever faltering. “Can you do that, Gon?”

Gon swung himself up, but his feet were too big for the small bars and he stumbled twice near the end, grumbling, “Aw, man,” when Killua laughed at him.

Killua climbed swiftly and easily, without care for his cut hands. He laughed freely and openly, head thrown back and silvery hair tickling his cheeks. Gon paused for a moment, just watching him, thinking that he was making up for lost time. The boy climbed and swung and vaulted, challenging Gon at every turn until they were both breathless with laughter and seated at the top of the biggest slide together.

“You’re so fast,” Gon remarked.

“Climbing this is fun,” Killua told him with a small shrug. “It reminds me a little of training, except if this was at my house, it would be electrified or heated to burning or something…” He trailed off when he saw Gon’s face and muttered, “Sorry. I know you don’t like to hear about my family.”

Gon shook his head. “I don’t mind hearing about it if you want to talk, Killua,” he said gently. “What upsets me is the thought of them hurting you. You shouldn’t be hurt, Killua.”

Killua flexed his bandaged fingers and then looked at the scabbed-over cuts on his forearm. The minor injuries were nothing compared to the bruises and scars Gon had seen on Killua’s little body, but the sight of those small wounds still felt like failure. Killua wet his lips and started to speak, but Gon would never know what he had been about to say—whether it was a protest or affirmation of the way his family treated him.

“Gon! Killua!” Leorio shouted from below, hands cupped around his mouth. “It’s eleven! Let’s get that ice cream!”

Killua brightened immediately and grinned at Gon. “Race you?”

“You’re on!”

They pushed off the top of the slide and went streaking towards the ground. Killua flattened out his body, flying ahead of Gon. Gon gripped the sides of the slide subtly, slowing himself so that Killua could pull ahead and hit the sandy bottom like a firework. Killua spread his arms, smiling in victory, and Gon landed behind him.

“Great job!” Leorio said to Killua and gave his fluffy hair a ruffle. “You’ve definitely earned _two_ scoops.”

Kurapika smiled even as he protested, “What about lunch? We should eat something healthier than just ice cream.”

“So we’ll get banana splits,” Leorio continued, ignoring Kurapika in favor of trying to fix the mess he had made of Killua’s hair. “That’s healthy. It’s got fruit in it.”

Killua stood still, letting Leorio fuss over him, his eyes closed with delight and a smile on his lips.

“Yes, Kil,” came a voice Gon had hoped not to hear for days, “you must certainly consider your health. After all, good assassins don’t eat ice cream.”

XXX

Questions, comments, concerns? 


	9. Showdown

Only one more chapter to go. Ah, parting is such sweet sorrow, but yet I love completing a story!

XXX

Gon was looking at Killua. He saw the pleased fragile little smile dissolve from Killua’s face, sliding away in fractures to be replaced with distress and dread. His happily-closed eyes pinched, smooth lids tightening at the corners as though fighting an onslaught of tears. His jaw clenched, his shoulders locked, and his assassin claws flicked out with alarm before they retracted. He stiffened entirely under Leorio’s gentle hand, breath catching in his chest. He turned slowly, face a mask like it had been when Gon first coaxed him out from underneath the bathroom sink in the inn. He hadn’t realized how expressive Killua’s baby-face was until he saw all that emotion being shut off.

As one, Kurapika and Leorio whirled to face the voice. Gon stepped between Killua and his brother, his eyes blazing.

Illumi looked as ruffled as a lion being confronted by a trio of antelope. He was dressed casually in slacks and a cable-knit sweater, blending in with the other park-goers. His long black hair whispered in the wind, slipping over his shoulders. His fathomless black eyes focused on Killua and he smiled the way one would before eating a fantastic meal. “Come along, Kil,” he said and held out his hand imperiously. “Playtime is over. It’s time to go home.”

Killua glanced at Leorio and Kurapika, anchored on either side of him. He could only see Gon’s back.

“Don’t,” Kurapika told Killua.

“You’re not going with him,” Leorio confirmed. “Stay behind us.”

Illumi chuckled at the display. “Don’t be foolish, Kil,” he said lightly. “I’m your brother. You don’t even know these people. Now, come along with me.”

“I do know them,” Killua protested in a tiny voice. He stepped up beside Gon, little fingers clutching along his shorts.

Gon was quick to take Killua’s hand, holding on tight as he stared at Illumi without blinking. Kurapika came up on Killua’s other side and Leorio stayed behind them. They walled Killua in on all side, protecting him, even though it seemed unlikely that Illumi would attack in broad daylight in the middle of a public park. A young man jogged by, watching their exchange suspiciously.

“Do you?” Illumi asked. “Do tell me all you know about them, Kil.”

Killua glanced nervously at Gon and then Kurapika. “They’re… friends…”

“Of yours?” Illumi asked. He did laugh then, a cold grating sound that made the hair stand up on Gon’s neck. “Good assassins don’t have friends, Kil. You’re a good assassin, aren’t you?”

Killua swallowed, his fingers digging into Gon’s palm. “I…”

“You think they like you,” Illumi said suddenly. He tapped one finger to his chin thoughtfully, smirking in awe. “You think just because they took care of you for a few days that they like you, that they’ll always take care of you, that they want you. Tell me, Kil, have you been _bad_ for them yet? Have they had to _punish_ you yet?”

Killua flinched fiercely, recoiling like the words were physical blows.

Gon felt the bite of his assassin claws where Killua clung to his hand. “Shut up,” Gon snapped at Illumi. “Killua’s not bad. He doesn’t need to be punished.”

Illumi laughed—his head tossed back and his mouth open like a beast.

Gon had never seen such an emotional display on Illumi’s face and it made his heart pound. He tightened his grip on Killua’s little hand, as though the boy would be snatched from his side. Killua’s skin was cold and clammy, slick with sweat and shaking minutely. Gon rasped his thumb over Killua’s knuckles in what he hoped was a comforting way.

“That’s rich,” Illumi said when he finished laughing. “Did you know that Killua is already a murderer?”

Killua’s claws stabbed into Gon’s palm. He tried immediately to pull away, ashamed and worried.

Gon squeezed his fingers, holding tight even as the claws slashed into his skin. “You’re the ones who made him kill people,” Gon bit out. “You can’t blame him for that. It’s not his fault.”

Leorio felt a pang of alarm. Killua was already being made to assassinate people at such a tender young age?

Illumi tucked a lock of hair behind his ear, looking down at Killua. “So sweet of you to say,” he remarked, “but you don’t really believe that. There are so many things that I can tell you about Kil, about the things he’s done, the things he’s _wanted_. You don’t want me to tell them, do you, Kil?

Killua flinched, trying to wriggle from Gon’s grip.

Kurapika placed a hand on his shoulder, trying to comfort him. He could feel the boy trembling.

“Come along, Kil, before you embarrass yourself further.” Illumi held out his hand patiently. “Your family is the only one who will stand by you. We’re the only ones who know the truth of you and still care for you. If your little friends knew, they would hand you over in a heartbeat. They would hate you, be disgusted by you, and you know it.”

“Shut up!” Gon shouted. “That’s not true!”

Illumi cut his black eyes to Gon and then turned his attention back to Killua. “Make the choice yourself, Kil. You know this is just a fleeting dream,” he said. “Come with me. Now. Before you taint it.”

Killua hesitated, tugging against Gon’s grip.

“You know the truth, Kil,” Illumi said. “Come. Now. Or I won’t be there when you need me—when they tire of you and get rid of you.”

“We aren’t going to—” Gon protested.

“What’s more likely, Kil?” Illumi interrupted. “That you’ve stumbled across three perfect strangers? Or that they know who and what you are? That they’d like a trained dog to do their bidding? Or that they know what you’re worth to the highest bidder when they’re finished with you? A Zoldyck, out of the estate and unprotected? What they’ll do to you when they tire of you will make our family’s training seem like a picnic.”

Killua’s skin was like ice in Gon’s hand and his pulse was rabbit-fast. Gon worried that he was going to pass out, or fight his way free of them and go with Illumi. If he left with Illumi now, Gon wasn’t sure he would ever see him again. The Zoldyck estate was a fortress and Gon was lucky to have gotten Killua out of it only once. Even then, Killua had met him halfway, bruised and battered terribly from the punishments he had submitted himself too.

“Come, Kil,” Illumi said again. “Now.”

“Killua,” Gon began softly.

“No,” Killua protested. His voice was small and cracked. “I… I don’t want to go, Illumi.”

Illumi turned his black eyes on Gon. The first sign of his displeasure stole across his face, though it was quickly disguised behind his flat eyes and thin mouth. “You’ve undone my hard work already,” he said. “I suppose I’ll just have to have Ted hit him again. I didn’t want Kil to learn kindness or compassion, to be weakened by emotions, to be less than what he’s fully capable of being.”

Gon’s chest clogged with cold blood. How could Illumi speak so casually about stripping Killua of all that made him Killua? He spoke as though he was removing a particularly distasteful layer of wallpaper from an otherwise perfect house, but this was Killua’s heart, his spirit, his self.

“I won’t let you do that to him,” Gon found himself saying. He clutched Killua’s cold tiny hand.

Illumi hummed. “See if you can stop me,” was all he said. “Enjoy the rest of your day, Kil. It will be the last taste of freedom you have.” With that, Illumi turned and ambled smoothly through the park.

They all stood stiffly together, watching him go until he disappeared into a bank of trees. Even then, the tension did not go out of them. Though the weather hadn’t changed and the sun was still shining brightly, it abruptly felt cold. The desire for ice cream had vanished.

“Let’s go,” Leorio said first. “We should get back to the house.”

Kurapika nodded and carefully peeled his hand off Killua’s shoulder.

Gon turned to face the boy, kneeling to be level with him. “Killua?”

Killua turned his blue eyes on Gon, his lashes glittering with tears that he blinked hastily away as he tried to smile.

“C-can I-I,” Gon’s voice broke. He cleared his throat and tried again, “Can I pick you up?”

Killua nodded, slowly stretching his arms to circle around Gon’s neck. He cuddled into Gon, shivering, his face turned into Gon’s neck while Gon held him tight and close, arms like a stronghold around Killua’s little back. All at once, Kurapika realized how young Gon was too. They walked hurriedly back to where Leorio had parked the car, squinting at everyone they passed—hyperaware that any person could be Illumi in disguise. Leorio beeped the car unlocked and they all piled inside. Kurapika slid into the backseat, Killua between himself and Gon while Leorio drove.

“You were so brave, Killua,” Kurapika said just to break the silence.

Killua’s smile was brittle, thin and wet and translucent like broken ice over deep rushing water. “I… it doesn’t matter that Illumi’s right,” he said lowly. The full breadth of his sharp-edged smile struck Kurapika like a slap. “At least I had this. I can remember it whenever I need to.” He blinked back tears, staring straight ahead. “At least I had this.” His little voice went even lower, splintering into pieces. “It’s worth it… to have had this… even once.”

Gon wrapped his arm around Killua’s shoulders, pulling him into his side and stroking his hair. Killua pressed his face into Gon’s shirt, hiding. Kurapika couldn’t be sure Killua was crying, but he had a feeling he was. His narrow back trembled, shaking and rattling with his breaths. Gon stared at Kurapika while he smoothed Killua’s hair and pressed a kiss to the top of his head.

“We won’t let Illumi take you,” Gon whispered. “We won’t.”

Kurapika placed a hand on Killua’s back, rubbing gingerly. Beneath Killua’s shirt, he felt the bumps and dips of recent wounds and carefully withdrew.

Leorio pulled into the driveway a little too fast, bouncing them all against their seatbelts. They exited the vehicle and hustled inside, Gon carrying Killua again. However, Illumi did not spring upon them from the buttery afternoon. The alarm didn’t appear to have been triggered and Ted was still tied up in the hall closet. He glared at Leorio when he opened the door to check on him. Satisfied, Leorio shut the door again. Awkwardly, they stood in the kitchen together, uncertain of what to do now.

“Is anyone hungry?” Leorio asked finally.

Gon shook his head.

“We should eat something,” Kurapika put in. “We need to calm down. We have no idea when Illumi will try something, if he even does.”

“Let’s watch a movie,” Leorio suggested. “I’ll make some popcorn and put some snacks together.”

“Good,” Kurapika said. “Gon, you and Killua go pick a movie.”

Gon nodded and carried Killua back down the hall. He settled him on the couch, grabbed the remote, and powered on Netflix. The cheerful chime sounded and Killua stared blankly at the colored screen. Gon gingerly set down beside him, cuddling Killua under his arm.

“What would you like to watch?” Gon asked.

“It doesn’t matter,” Killua said softly. He pressed tight to Gon’s side, clinging to him. “You can pick.”

Gon set the remote aside in favor of snuggling Killua into his lap. “What can I do to make you feel better?” he asked lowly.

“I mean,” Killua whispered, “if I knew Illumi couldn’t get me… if I knew this was real…”

“This is real,” Gon confirmed quickly. “I’m your friend. I love you, Killua. I won’t let Illumi get you. I’ll fight him if he even shows his face here.”

Killua nodded, but didn’t appear to really believe Gon. “Thank you,” was all he said.

Leorio entered the living room with two big bowls of popcorn to share while Kurapika carried a tray of drinks and snack foods. They set everything on the coffee table. Kurapika lifted a brow inquisitively at Gon. Gon shook his head, picked the remote back up, and selected a mindless movie for children. Leorio and Kurapika sat down on either side of him, offering snacks and drinks in turn.

Gon shifted Killua around in his lap until he could see the screen and access the popcorn. Killua nibbled tentatively, looking between Leorio and Kurapika occasionally. He didn’t move to separate himself from Gon, preferring to stick close. The movie droned, intercut with overly-twee musical numbers. Kurapika tugged a fluffy blanket off the nearby armchair and tucked it in around Killua’s little body.

Killua smiled faintly and snuggled deep, cuddling in under the blanket. Gon tucked him in, pressing a little kiss to the top of his head. He wasn’t exactly surprised when Killua dozed off, his little body soft and heavy in Gon’s arms. Gon didn’t want to speak for fear of waking him, but Leorio spoke first.

“I heard you talking—what did he say?” Leorio asked.

Gon decided not to mention that part of Killua believed everything that Illumi had said—that he believed they didn’t love him and would hurt him. He knew his friends wouldn’t react well, but there was little they could do to change Killua’s mind save just showing him that Illumi was wrong. “He wanted to know if we could stop Illumi from getting him. I told him that we would fight.”

Kurapika nodded thoughtfully.

“That’s all well and good if just Illumi comes for him, but we don’t have the kind of power needed to stop the whole Zoldyck family,” Leorio murmured. “They could wipe us out in minutes. If that happens, maybe we should let them take Killua. We could always get him out of the estate later.”

Gon resisted the urge to squeeze Killua tight. “Not a chance,” he said flatly.

“I agree,” Kurapika said. “In this state, Killua is…” His grey eyes flickered over Killua’s little body, curled and cuddled into Gon in an exhausted doze. “We can’t let them get their hands on him.”

Leorio held his hands up in defeat. “Just a thought.”

They stared at the television for a long moment, watching the insipid characters and bright colors dance.

“When do you think Illumi will come?” Leorio asked.

“Not until nightfall,” Kurapika said thoughtfully. “He’ll want to keep us waiting so we’re tired and on edge.”

“So we should get some rest while we can,” Leorio murmured.

Kurapika nodded.

“In that case, I’m going to go lay down after the all-nighter I pulled,” Leorio said and stifled a yawn. “Coffee is just not going to cut it at this point.”

“I’ll stay up,” Gon said and rested his cheek on the top of Killua’s head. “I couldn’t sleep right now anyway.”

“The alarm is set,” Leorio said. He tilted off the couch, stretched, and then yawned in earnest. “So we’ll all know the second something happens.”

“Sleep well,” Kurapika said to him.

Leorio gave a slight wave and headed upstairs.

Kurapika remained seated beside Gon and Killua on the couch, his hands cradling the bowl of popcorn loosely.

“Kurapika?” Gon asked.

“Hmm?”

“We can stop Illumi, right?”

Kurapika glanced at Killua and then looked back at the TV. “Of course we can.”

Gon smiled. In his arms, he felt Killua stir just a little before the child snuggled closer. Gon tucked the blanket more securely around Killua’s little shoulders, holding him safe and warm. Even though he hated Illumi for doing this to Killua, Gon was grateful for the moments like this—when he got to show Killua how things should be, how it felt to be loved and taken care of and treated nicely. He hoped, if nothing else good came out of this nen ability, that Killua would remember at least parts of these days.

…

Kurapika was right.

Illumi came for Killua just after they finished a light dinner of soup and sandwiches. The sun had set in a blaze of red and gold half an hour before, casting a rich purple twilight. Now, the full moon was inching into the star-spangled sky. The streetlights had all come on, throwing deep cool shadows around the house. It was dark and still and then there was a knock at the door.

Gon froze and slowly turned off the sink where he had been washing dishes with Killua. For his part, Killua turned into a statue. Gon didn’t even think he was breathing.

Leorio forced a laugh and went down the hallway to answer the door. “What kind of attack can it be if Illumi knocks?” he asked them.

However, the moment he coded off the alarm and turned back the deadbolt, the door exploded inwards. It blasted off its hinges, struck Leorio full in the chest, and sent him rolling into the living room. There wasn’t even a cloud of dust to account for the force and then Illumi was simply standing there, silhouetted by the streetlamps as casually as if he had come for a night of cards.

“No,” Killua breathed. “Not yet. Please.”

Kurapika’s eyes blazed scarlet and he threw himself at Illumi, revealing the chains on his hand in a flash. He lashed out with his dowsing chain, ripping out a portion of the doorframe as he bore down on Illumi. There was a quick movement and Kurapika destroyed the floorboard where Illumi had been standing. Needles jutted from the wall inches from Kurapika’s face. He threw himself backwards, calling up his chain as a shield. Needles plinked off the whirling chain, scattering on the floor at Kurapika’s feet.

Illumi was standing in the hallway. He pensively opened the closet door where Ted was imprisoned and commented, “There you are.”

Ted gave a muffled retort.

“Wait there for me,” Illumi said and closed the door promptly. “I’ll be with you shortly.”

Ted shouted from inside, though no one could make out what he was saying.

Kurapika couldn’t attack without risking Ted’s life. He stood back, watching Illumi closely with his chains at the ready.

“So, you’ve decided to fight for Kil,” Illumi remarked. “Is he really worth all this?”

“Of course he is!” Gon shouted, one hand held out to shield Killua.

Leorio wrestled his way from beneath the ruined front door and the wreckage of the couch. “He’s our friend and you’re not laying a finger on him.”

Illumi hummed under his breath, taking a step towards Gon and Killua.

Kurapika lashed out, the dowsing chain rupturing the floor inches in front of Illumi’s feet. Unfortunately, he had been aiming for Illumi. He hadn’t even seen the older Zoldyck move. “Don’t take another step towards them,” Kurapika said lowly. “You’re fighting me.”

“Am I?” Illumi asked. He snapped a fistful of needles into one hand, fanning them open like a lady about to be courted. “Could have fooled me.” In a smooth motion, he hurled all the needles at Leorio and Kurapika.

Though Kurapika was quick to block them with his chains, Leorio yelped. He wasn’t quick enough to get out of the way and the needles pinned all along the edges of his clothes. He was trapped against the wall like a specimen in a science lab. No matter how he pulled, he couldn’t get free and he wasn’t in a position to slip out of his clothes.

“One down,” Illumi said. “Two to go.” He spread his fingers across two fans of needles and cut his eyes to Kurapika. “Can you dodge twice as many I wonder?”

Kurapika’s chain was whirling so fast that it was invisible, scattering needles that stuck quivering in every available surface. Illumi’s hands came up empty and Gon found a moment to breathe. Kurapika wasn’t even out of breath. He hadn’t even used his scarlet eyes. They really could stop Illumi from taking Killua. They could win.

They were—

Illumi’s black eyes landed on Leorio, trapped against the wall by a hundred needles in his clothes. Leorio felt those black eyes like a touch. Goosebumps stood out all over his body, prickling and spreading beneath his clothes. He lifted his head slowly, turning to face Illumi full-on, his glasses sliding down his sweat-slick nose.

Kurapika saw Illumi’s focus shift. His eyes moved to Leorio in the same moment.

Illumi hurled a single needle at Leorio with deadly accuracy.

Kurapika lunged away from Gon and Killua, his chain dancing. The needle was knocked upwards where it stuck in the ceiling and Kurapika’s chain clattered on the floor, concentration broken. Kurapika’s chest heaved for breath, thrown off by the sudden attack on someone who was clearly not able to fight. He opened his mouth to retort, but saw a smirk dance across Illumi’s lips a moment before a tiny burning star of pain took root in his chest. There was a needle jutting out of the flesh above his heart. All at once, Kurapika’s body went numb and he crumpled.

In an instant, Illumi closed the space between himself and Gon, leaving Kurapika in the living room. Gon surged to meet Illumi, his fist catching under Illumi’s chin with a snap. Illumi’s long black hair clouded Gon’s vision and smothered him. Blinded, he thrashed out of range and whirled to face Illumi. He was now between Gon and Killua, close enough to touch his young brother with the tip of his needle.

“See, Kil?” Illumi said flatly. “They were never going to be able to protect you.”

Killua’s blue eyes brimmed with tears as he stared at Gon.

Gon hurled himself at Illumi with an animal-howl of rage. He felt a burning needle slide into the meat of his left forearm, but he swung at Illumi regardless. His nen aura accumulated in his right fist, blasting Illumi backwards into the kitchen table in a shower of splintered wood. He stumbled to Killua, grasping at his shoulder with fingers that suddenly couldn’t feel.

“Are you hurt?” Gon asked. His vision was darkening at the edges and his voice sounded odd even to his ears.

Killua shook his head, eyes wide on Gon’s face.

“Good. Now, let’s—”

A second needle stuck in Gon’s thigh and his leg went entirely numb. It buckled under him and he found himself on the floor, unsteadily kneeling. He fumbled to push himself up with his limp arm to no avail. The room swam and spun, blurring at the edges as though he had been tossed underwater.

Illumi picked himself out of the table and crossed the kitchen. “It’s a small dose of neurotoxin,” he said. “In a few minutes, you won’t be able to move at all. Come, Kil.”

Gon grasped Illumi’s ankle, pulling with all his strength.

Illumi kicked him away.

The wall burst apart where Gon hit it in a shower of plaster and dust. His head felt like lead and his eyes were watering, but Gon forced himself upright. His arm and leg dangled off his body like noodles. Determinedly, he jockeyed onto his remaining leg and began to summon his nen in his fist.

“Show me—Rock!”

Gon swung at Illumi, catching him at the shoulder. The attack glanced off, merely making Illumi stumble. Gon crashed to the floor near Killua’s feet and immediately struggled back onto his leg. Killua came up beside him and Gon used the boy’s shoulder as a crutch. He was on his feet again, gathering the energy for another blow.

Illumi flicked the needle into Gon’s teetering leg.

Gon slumped, seated and propped against the kitchen cabinets, looking up into those black eyes. He held the power in his fist, waiting for Illumi to get close enough to strike. Illumi didn’t fall for it though. He stood back, just staring at Gon with his arms crossed over his chest, idly twisting a needle around and around in his fingers. Killua stood at Gon’s shoulder, shaking terribly, looking between them.

“Should I make you helpless?” Illumi asked.

Gon curled his lip in a snarl.

Illumi struck—his fourth and final blow.

Gon’s fist dropped and a portion of the floor blew out with the force of his nen attack.

Illumi tsked, shaking his head. “All that power—wasted on protecting someone like Kil.”

“It’s not a waste!” Gon snarled. “Killua is my best friend and I love him!” He turned his head sharply, digging his teeth into Illumi’s wrist when he reached for Killua. “I won’t let you take him,” Gon ground out, muffled by his bite.

Illumi punched him, once full-on in the face.

Blood spurted from Gon’s nose, but he didn’t let go. He bit harder.

Illumi lifted his fist.

“Don’t!” Killua protested. “Don’t hurt him! Please!”

Illumi stared at him and then shook his arm violently free of Gon’s mouth. There was a crown of teethmarks in his flesh. “Then, come, Kil.”

Killua glanced at Gon and stepped forward, ready to go—ready to sacrifice himself, just like he always did for Gon.

“No!” Gon shouted. He threw himself at Illumi, his limp body crashing into the older Zoldyck’s knees. “I won’t let you!”

“This is getting tiresome,” Illumi remarked. “Maybe I’ll just kill you.”

“No!” Killua shouted. He jumped on Illumi and clung to his arm. “Don’t hurt him! Please!”

Gon tried to move, but his entire body was numb and heavy. He could only move his head and face, snapping his teeth helplessly at Illumi’s ankle.

“I’ll go,” Killua murmured. “I’m sorry.”

There was a crash as Kurapika barreled into the threshold of the kitchen. He was breathing heavily, using his dowsing chain to blast holes in the wall and drag himself along. “You’re not going anywhere, Killua,” Kurapika protested. “Don’t let him take you. We won’t let you go.” Kurapika’s chain smashed the wall beside Illumi’s head. “Get away from him.”

Killua’s blue eyes filled with tears of awe.

Illumi sighed tiredly and came up with another fistful of needles. “So bothersome.”

A cheerful ring split the tense air.

Illumi muttered under his breath and began patting down his pockets. He pulled out his cellphone a moment later and answered, “Yes, Father?”

Gon squinted up at him and Kurapika leaned heavily on the wall. Killua stared at his brother, at Gon, at Kurapika in turn. They only heard Illumi’s end of the conversation, but that was enough. It seemed that Silva Zoldyck did not sanction Illumi’s plan and was unhappy to hear about the wanton destruction of Killua’s new life.

Illumi hung up with a sigh. “Fine,” he relented. “Father won’t see me take you home by force, but they’ll tire of you, Kil. None of them want a child, especially not one as bad as you.”

“Shut up!” Gon snapped.

“I’ll be waiting for you at home, Kil,” Illumi said. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Killua bit his lower lip, eyes brimming with tears as Illumi walked away.

“Come along, Ted,” Illumi could be heard in the hall. “I’ll pay you for your trouble.” There was a scuffle as Illumi freed Ted and marched him outside.

Then, silence reigned. The night was still save the wind whispering through the holes in the walls and floor.

Kurapika slid down, crumpling at the base of the kitchen threshold. With one shaking hand, he extracted the needle from his chest and dropped it, twinkling, on the messy floor. He let his breath out in a relieved rush and tipped his head back against the wall with a thunk. Gon tried to move, but couldn’t. Killua carefully knelt beside him, pushing on Gon’s shoulder until he rolled over onto his back with a groan. He imagined everything hurt, but he couldn’t feel anything besides his face and the chill of Killua’s little hands.

“Did we win?” Leorio shouted suddenly. “Or are we all dead?”

“We won,” Kurapika called back, “by default.”

“That’s still a win!” Leorio cheered.

Gon stifled an exhausted laugh. He tried to wiggle his fingers and failed miserably. Instead, he stared up at the pale moon of Killua’s worried yet happy face with a big smile.

Then, Leorio yelled, “Killua, are you okay?”

“I am,” Killua answered in awe. “I really am.”

“Of course you are,” Gon told him. “I told you that we’d protect you.”

Killua beamed, using the tips of his fingers to swipe plaster dust off Gon’s face. “Thank you,” he said.

“You don’t have to thank us,” Kurapika said breathily. “What are friends for?”

Killua didn’t have an answer. He picked the needles out of Gon’s limbs and set them aside with steady hands.

“Can anyone move?” Kurapika asked after a moment.

“Not me,” Gon said dejectedly.

“I’m stuck too,” Leorio admitted.

Killua hopped to his feet. “I can!”

“Great!” Leorio called. “Come help me get out of this and then we’ll help the others.”

“Okay,” Killua said brightly and disappeared into the living room to free Leorio from the nest of needles pinning him to the wall.

Gon lay flat on his back, staring at the ceiling, waiting for the toxin to wear off.

“We were lucky,” Kurapika murmured.

“I know,” Gon confessed.

“But Killua… I think he knows what he means to us now,” Kurapika continued.

“If I have anything to say about it, he’ll always know,” Gon told him. His index finger gave the tiniest twitch and he smiled faintly. “Even if he never feels safe, even if the nen ability doesn’t come undone, even if he gets to grow up again, I’ll make sure he knows what he means to me.”

Leorio and Killua returned to the kitchen a moment later. Leorio was staring at the ruined walls and floors in shock, his eyes wide behind his tiny glasses. Then, he suddenly took notice of Kurapika and Gon sprawled on the floor and hurried to check them over. “Are you hurt?” he asked each of them in turn.

“I’ll be fine,” Gon said. “Illumi said it would wear off.”

“Me too,” Kurapika agreed.

“Fantastic,” Leorio said and then looked mournfully around the wrecked rental house.

Kurapika huffed a laugh at his expression. “Too bad about the house though.”

“It’s only money,” Leorio said finally. He reached out and patted the top of Killua’s head. “We’ve got something way more important than that.”

Killua flushed adorably, his cheeks going pink. “Really?”

“Of course,” Leorio agreed and pulled Killua into a side embrace, giving the boy a gentle squeeze. He couldn’t help noticing that Killua’s little body was chilled, fear-sweat having cooled on his pale skin. “Help me straighten up the living room,” he said lightly, “and then we’ll move Gon and Kurapika someplace more comfortable to wait for the neurotoxin to wear off.”

In the ruined living room, Leorio righted the couch while Killua picked up the scattered pillows and blankets and dusted them off. The TV was miraculously unharmed and powered up once Leorio located the remote. He kicked aside the shattered coffee table and pulled the drapes over the broken window, mourning his deposit. Then, he carried in first Kurapika and then Gon and settled them on either end of the couch. Gon’s body lolled like a limp noodle, making Killua grin. Kurapika had enough of his autonomy back to lightly protest the indignity, but he didn’t fight that hard.

Leorio tucked some blankets around their bodies, plopped between them, and selected a movie on the TV. He was already feeling the ache of fighting Illumi, no matter how briefly he had done so. Killua paced at the foot of the couch for a moment, looking torn.

“Want to sit with me?” Leorio offered.

Killua nodded.

“Come here,” Leorio said and patted his lap.

Killua arranged himself carefully across Leorio’s thighs, even though he was as light as a feather. Once he settled down, Leorio wrapped an arm around him, tucked him under the blankets, and gave him the cuddle that he had desperately wanted to lavish on him since he had seen little Killua. Surprisingly, Killua did not voice a single syllable of protest. He snuggled delightedly into Leorio’s arms, clinging like the most adorable burr Leorio had ever seen. He almost purred when Leorio gave into the urge to stroke his fluffy white hair, arching into his fingers, pursuing more affectionate touch. It was sad, even as it warmed Leorio’s heart.

By the time the movie ended, Kurapika had regained full control of his body. Gon, on the other hand, still have trouble walking on his own, but had lost enough of his tingling numbness that Leorio figured it was safe for them all to go to bed. It had been a long couple of days and they could all do with a shower and some sleep.

Leorio showered first, then Kurapika so that Gon could have more time to start feeling his toes.

Gon and Killua sat together on the couch since the kitchen table was smashed, sipping the hot chocolate that Leorio had made for them all. Killua’s eyes drooped, even as he took little sips to savor the chocolate on his tongue. Gon couldn’t help smiling at him, reminded of the Killua he was used to.

“All yours,” Kurapika said, emerging into the living room and drying his blonde locks with a towel.

“Thanks,” Gon said and drained his hot chocolate in a few quick swallows. “Ready, Killua?”

Kurapika took the mug from him before he could think about carrying it into the kitchen and Killua handed over his too.

Gon directed Killua to climb the stairs in front of him, just in case he lost his balance. Luckily, the bedrooms hadn’t been damaged in the fight. The sound of Leorio loudly snoring drifted from underneath one of the closed doors. Gon made a ‘shh’ gesture and ushered Killua into the bedroom they had shared the night before. They picked up some pajamas and then headed into the bathroom. Gon made quick work of scrubbing himself under the warm water before turning his attention to Killua.

He took his time helping Killua wash, being mindful of the many injuries on his back. He lathered Killua’s silvery hair in his fingers, enjoying the way Killua surrendered entirely to the kind touch. The boy almost melted, his eyes closed and his lips parted in bliss. Like this, he looked so young and innocent—he looked the way he should have all along. After a long time massaging the soap into Killua’s scalp, Gon rinsed him underneath the warm water and watched the bubbles sluice away down the drain.

Then, Gon carefully peeled off the wet Band-Aids on his cut hands, examining the wounds in the bright overhead light. They were scabbed nicely and already healing at the very edges. “Does it hurt?” Gon asked.

Killua shook his head.

Gon couldn’t help but glanced at Killua’s little scarred and bruised body. “Does anything hurt?”

“Nope,” Killua said with a smile. “I feel… nice.” He blushed and looked away. “Thank you.”

“You don’t have to thank me,” Gon said and petted the top of Killua’s head. “I love you. You deserve to be safe and protected and feel nice.”

Killua shivered beneath the gentle touch, blinking his wet lashes at Gon.

“Ready to get out?”

Killua nodded.

Gon hopped out, dried himself off, and dressed while Killua waited underneath the warm spray. When he finished, he turned off the water and fluffed open a towel for Killua. He engulfed his little body in the towel and helped him dry off carefully, wringing the water from his silken tresses. Then, he held out Killua’s clean dry pajamas, patterned with snowflakes this time.

“I can… do all this myself, you know,” Killua said softly.

“I know,” Gon murmured, “but I like helping you. Is that okay?”

“Yeah,” Killua breathed.

“Ready for bed?”

Killua nodded and watched as Gon hung up their towels to dry.

Together, they headed back down the hallway and slipped into the bedroom from the night before. The bed was still unmade from that morning, the pillows sunken and the blankets twisted back. Gon straightened them and gave the pillows a good fluffing, flipping on the bedside lamp for the warm amber glow it provided and shutting off the overhead light. Then, he sat down on the edge of the bed with a groan and flexed his tingling toes.

Killua stared at the bed for a moment, searching Gon’s tired battered face. “Last night, um,” he began and scuffed his bare toes in the carpet.

Gon glanced down at Killua’s tiny bare feet and noticed for the first time that his toenails had been removed. His chest ached and he reached absently for Killua, wanting to draw him close.

Killua came easily, fitting into Gon’s arms and nestling deeply with his face buried against Gon’s chest. He pressed his ear over Gon’s heart, listening in silence for a moment. Once he was that close, he found his voice again. “Last night, when we went to sleep,” he whispered, “you were holding me. Would you do that again?”

Gon nodded and pressed a kiss to the top of his head. “Hop in bed,” he said.

Killua bounced happily onto the mattress and quickly snuggled beneath the coverlet. He beamed up at Gon, blue eyes as bright and cheerful as the starlit sky as he peeped over the blanket. Gon shut off the lamp and cuddled beside Killua, cradling him close as his eyes adjusted to the darkness. Killua burrowed into him, tiny cool fingers gripping his shirt, breath coming slow and steady.

Gon fit his lips to Killua’s forehead, giving a lingering kiss. “Sweet dreams,” he whispered.

Killua was already asleep.

XXX

Questions, comments, concerns? 


	10. Epilogue

Well, it's here—the end.

XXX

When Killua woke in the morning, he was impossibly warm and comfortable. He didn’t want to open his eyes, didn’t want to get out of such a perfect bed, didn’t want this moment to end. He clung to his dreams, burying his face deeper into his pillow. He couldn’t remember ever feeling like this before. It was amazing and he wanted to keep it in his heart forever.

He shifted faintly and his pajamas pinched his skin unpleasantly in a few places. He couldn’t remember having put on such tight pajamas and he cursed them silently for dragging him slowly out of such perfect bliss. The buttons were biting into the skin of his chest. Killua cracked open one eye and blinked at the sight of Gon’s face inches from his own.

Such a sight wasn’t that strange. He and Gon had crashed in the same bed in the same hotel plenty of times. What was a little odd was the way he was curled up in Gon’s arms. Gon occasionally cuddled Killua like an unwilling teddy bear, but the way Killua fit against him now was much more tender than that. Gon’s hand was even tangled in his hair, holding his head close, sharing his air.

“Gon?” Killua tried. His voice was a squeak. He cleared his throat and tried again. “Gon?”

Gon mumbled sleepily, carding his hand through Killua’s hair.

Killua’s eyes fluttered shut at the lovely sensation and he helplessly turned into Gon’s hand, nuzzling it shamelessly. It felt right to accept affection from Gon. Gon loved him, Gon made him feel… safe.

“Morning,” Gon mumbled. “Sleep well?”

“Yeah,” Killua breathed out. His voice was a shudder, shaken by the delicate caress.

Gon blinked at him, smiling indulgently as he smoothed Killua’s bangs out of his face. Then, all at once, his eyes snapped open and he sat up with a loud cry, “Ah! You’re you!”

Killua was almost knocked out of bed by Gon’s alarm. He heard a rip and saw that the seam of his pajamas along his arm was shredded. In fact, he was mostly tangled in a ruin of a snow-patterned kid’s pajama set. He jerked the coverlet around himself. “What? Of course I’m me!” he protested. Déjà vu washed over Killua as Gon grabbed his face and gave his cheeks a squeeze. “I’m fwine!”

“You’re you!” Gon repeated with a goofy grin. Then, he threw his arms around Killua and hugged him so tight that his ribs creaked. “Thank goodness!”

Summoned by Gon’s shouting, Kurapika and Leorio appeared in the threshold just as Killua was awkwardly patting Gon on the back. They just stared at him for a heartbeat before they both surged forward. Then, Killua was wrapped tight in a laughing and fast-talking mess of his friends. He wrestled one hand out and managed a little space between them all.

“Can someone explain to me what’s going on?” Killua demanded.

Kurapika surreptitiously wiped his eye. “It’s a long story. Let’s go downstairs and I’ll make breakfast.”

“Chocolate chip pancakes?” Killua asked, though he wasn’t sure why.

Kurapika grinned. “Of course.”

Killua chased Gon out of the bedroom, stripped out of the ruined pajamas, snitched some clothes that Leorio had purchased for Gon, and then went through his morning routine. Washed and dressed, Killua padded into the kitchen and made himself a cup of coffee with too much sugar. Gon and Leorio were trying to reassemble some semblance of a kitchen table while Kurapika cooked over the intact stove.

“What happened here?” Killua asked, looking around.

“What’s the last thing you remember?” Kurapika asked.

“We were in town, heading to the Chocolate Festival,” Killua said and sipped his sweet brew. He didn’t tell his friends, but after that, there was pain and fear. Then, there was Gon and warmth and safety and then… nothing. He remembered waking up in the bed upstairs in Gon’s arms. “What happened? Just spill it.”

Gon abandoned Leorio to the table and started explained, talking a little too fast for Killua to make sense of. When the story was over, he could only stare at his friends, open-mouthed. It was so outlandish yet he knew it was true.

“Do you remember?” Kurapika asked Killua.

“It felt like I remembered everything when I woke up but now…” Killua stared down into his mug. “Now that I’ve been awake for a while, it’s getting… foggy… like it happened a long time ago.” He glanced at Gon, staring at him earnestly, grinning like a fool. “I guess it kind of did.”

Kurapika smiled and carried his plate of pancakes to the salvaged table.

“Too bad it wore off,” Leorio said cheekily. “You were much cuter as a little kid!”

Killua glowered at him. “Shut up!”

They dug into breakfast and Killua was ravenous. Changing from a child into his rightful age must have taken a lot of energy from his body. However, he noticed as he ate Kurapika’s delicious pancakes, the food tasted slightly different. It filled the yawning chasm in his stomach and settled someplace warm in his chest. When he looked up from his plate, he saw that Kurapika was smiling at him, though the blonde turned his attention to Leorio a moment later, enraptured in the story he was telling. Gon laughed loudly, his elbow bumping Killua’s, and Killua didn’t flinch.

His friends—no, his family—they loved him and he was safe with them. He wasn’t sure that was something he’d ever realized before.

…

After bidding farewell to Leorio and Kurapika, Gon and Killua boarded the train late that evening. They had missed most of the Chocolate Festival, but there was one day left and Killua wanted to make the most of it. They sat together on the bench seat, staring out at the deep twilight as it passed by. The train rumbled and jostled, rattling and clanking all around them. A few of the regular commuters seemed to recognize Gon and gave them a wide berth, much to Gon’s amusement. He regaled Killua once again with the details of his fight with Ted on the train.

Killua listened with a smile, despite having heard the tale before. When Gon fell silent, he turned his attention back out the window. However, he found himself instead staring at Gon’s reflection in the glass. Unbidden, he thought of Gon’s swollen face when he had come for him at the Zoldyck Estate. How had Killua gotten so lucky? What had he done to deserve such a great friend?

Gon nudged Killua with his elbow, jolting him from his thoughts, and beamed when their eyes met.

“What?” Killua asked, his chin rested in his palm on the windowsill.

“Nothing,” Gon said. “I’m just happy.”

Killua sat up a little straighter. “Because I’m back to normal?”

“Well, yeah,” Gon said. Then, his expression sobered and he admitted, “But also… I loved little you. If you had stayed like that, if we hadn’t been able to get you back to normal, I was going to take you home to Whale Island with me. Aunt Mito and I would have given you the childhood you deserved.”

Killua swallowed the spiny lump in his throat. “If I hadn’t been raised the way I was,” Killua murmured, “I never would have gotten to meet you.”

“True and I wouldn’t trade meeting you for the world,” Gon said thoughtfully. “But… is meeting me worth everything you suffered?”

Killua glanced at his scarred wrists. He thought of his slashed back and all the days he spent starving and the hours he spent training, the times he cried alone or tended his wounds or curled around his shattered body for meager protection, the nights he retched with poison or was shocked until his skin burned or screamed until he his voice gave out. Was it worth it… just to meet Gon? Killua shrugged finally. “I don’t know,” he admitted.

Gon smiled sadly as though he was reading Killua’s thoughts. “Hey, can I ask you something?”

“You already did,” Killua retorted.

Gon plowed ahead regardless. “Ted said that his nen ability turned you back to the age you last felt safe. Do you know why you were that age? Illumi seemed to think you’d be younger.”

“Hmm, when I was two or three,” Killua said thoughtfully, “that was when my father stopped directly overseeing my training and let my mother and brothers take over. He let them do whatever they wanted, train me as they saw fit, shape me into the perfect assassin.” Goosebumps rose on Killua’s bare arms.

Gon didn’t want to know what kind of memories would bring a chill over his friend. He reached out and took Killua’s clenched fist between his palms, smoothing out his long tapered fingers.

Killua watched the touch occur, his every sense focused on the warmth and texture of Gon’s fingers.

Abruptly, Gon noticed that Killua was staring at him and let go. “Sorry!” he said with a laugh. “I guess I just got used to comforting little you.”

Killua looked back out the window, but he could still see Gon in the reflection. “You don’t have to stop,” he told the window. “I don’t mind. Do what you want.”

Gon smiled warmly, even though he had no idea Killua was still watching him in the window glass. “Yeah?”

Killua shrugged, noncommittal one way or the other. He watched Gon’s reflection as his friend reached again for his abandoned hand, folding his callused fingers around Killua’s. A tremor ran through his body and Killua fought the urge to gasp at the sensation. Gon rasped his thumb over Killua’s scarred knuckles, smoothing the goosebumps that rose in the wake of each careful touch. Slowly, he withdrew and folded his hands in his lap. Killua let out a breath, his skin tingling wherever Gon had touched him. It was ridiculous how much something so little meant to him—one gentle touch and he was about to come undone.

“I’m glad you’re okay, Killua,” Gon said cheerfully.

“I can’t believe you fought Illumi for me,” Killua muttered. He turned away from the window and gave Gon’s cheeks a big pinch. “Do you have a death wish?”

“I wasn’t going to let him take you,” Gon mumbled and rubbed his sore cheeks. “You’ve suffered enough.”

Killua didn’t refute that. Softly, he murmured, “When I was… little, you… you saw some bad stuff, didn’t you?”

Gon lowered his hands from his face, reached for Killua, and then withdrew slightly. Killua’s permission aside, he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to touch this Killua the way he had gotten used to caressing his younger self.

Much to his surprise, Killua turned slightly to face him and took his outstretched hand. His skin was cool and soft. “I… I might not remember much, or at least, not very clearly, but I remember that you were with me and that I was happy,” Killua whispered. “So… thank you, Gon.”

Gon leaned in and rested his forehead against Killua’s. So close, Killua’s blue eyes filled up his entire world. “I love you, Killua,” he said softly. “You’re my best friend, no matter the form you take.”

“Dummy,” Killua sputtered. “You can’t just say things like that. It’s… embarrassing.” He hesitated, breathing shakily. Then, he said in response, “I love you too, Gon.”

Gon smiled and looked out the window at the vast star-filled night beyond. In the window glass, he could see Killua’s pink-cheeked reflection and pretended not to notice that Killua hadn’t let go of his hand. Killua’s childhood had been the worst, there were no doubts about that, but Gon had plenty of time to make up for it—starting with the Chocolate Festival.

XXX

Stay tuned. I have another story complete and ready for posting, though the subject matter probably won't be everyone's cup of tea.

Questions, comments, concerns?


End file.
